


Fallen Angels And How To Kill Them

by michaelfalls



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:36:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 79,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22652620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaelfalls/pseuds/michaelfalls
Summary: And yes, Castiel should have known it was always going to end this way. It hurt, and maybe he liked to live in denial, but he should have known.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 38
Kudos: 125
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Dean (Go To Him)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7ybXOkQjUZ4tOIENpMjSyw?si=AazdC-56Q3-15pjy5jzP1A

_What is so important about being human? Is it because you simply haven’t experienced anything else?_  
**Marina Dyachenko**

**September 28, 1993**

He drowned in a bathtub.

It’s the only thing Castiel knows about the man, other than how he was autistic in his living days. Castiel loved a particular Tuesday afternoon of the man’s life, all the way back in 1953. Nothing particularly monumental had happened that day. It wasn’t the day he died, neither the one he’d been born on. The man had simply been happy, and that’s more than Castiel can ever say for himself.

The landscape is peaceful. It’s quiet. Green. The sky is clear, and the grass bends under his feet. The sun is warm on his skin where the clouds part to greet him. Castiel inhales deeply, lets the air fill his body. Castiel can’t quite remember how exactly he came to know this day, this moment, out of every second lost to history and his eternal memories and duties. But still, the day existed, and he loves it. He loves the way the breeze feels, how the wind tugs him along to stand by the small lake. 

He glances over at the man -- sitting in the soft grass, just watching nothing. It looks so simple, easy. Nothing like what the rest of Heaven is like. 

But this is as good an escape as any, and he stands next to the man, looks out into the distance with him.

“Pretty,” the man says to himself. “So pretty.”

Castiel’s lungs breathe fire, and he’s sure that if he was human, they’d classify it as heartache. He isn’t really sure why; angels don’t feel emotions. In fact, they don’t even feel much of anything. It’s just the way it is, so they can remain impartial in judgement. Castiel likes it that way. It’s a form of control even when he has orders to follow. At least he knows that his judgement is always right.

The man can’t hear his responses. Castiel is in his memory, not his present, but he still feels like saying something.

“Indeed,” Castiel agrees absently. “It is a pretty sight.”

“It’s Tuesday,” the man notes.

“Yes, it’s Tuesday,” Castiel nods. “1953.”

And then Castiel is gone from his Heaven, back in the real world. He passes other angels, past the various vessels picked from all over Earth. His own vessel is one Jimmy Novak, a devout man who made his living selling advertising time on morning radio.

He left behind a wife and a daughter.

“Castiel,” Ishim says once he sees him coming. “Where were you?”

“In my heaven,” Castiel answers. He has no idea of the background of Ishim’s vessel, just that Ishim has a sort of sentimentality to him, or that he doesn’t care enough to find a new one after so long. “Did you need me?"

“I want that mission report by today, that’s all,” he says. He gives Castiel a once-over -- Castiel likes to think he gives nothing away in how he stands. Some humans stand a little hunched, and others know they’re shy, guilty, tired or sad. Some stand tall and others know they are confident, enthusiastic, powerful.

Castiel isn’t a human.

He wonders briefly, how Jimmy Novak stands when he is sad. How he stood the first time he lost a job. How he stood when his mother died. How he stood when he married his wife, how he stood when his daughter was born. If he even stood at all, or if he crumbled to the floor. He wonders how he himself would have stood if it were him.

“What were you doing in your heaven?” Ishim asks. The condescending tones of his voice snap Castiel out of his wandering thoughts. Ishim and he have been friends for a long time, but Castiel hates his vessel’s voice. He wonders if when the vessel himself spoke, it was less grating and more gentle comfort. That thought brings him to the sad wondering of if the vessel had loved someone, had been loved, how his voice sounded when he told a partner he loved them.

“Standing,” Castiel answers. “It’s peaceful.”

“Standing? What, like you can’t stand anywhere else in Heaven?” Ishim almost mocks. Castiel hates his sarcasm, or just, in general, his attitude. Yes, it may be funny on occasion, but rarely did it never get under Castiel’s skin, especially when it’s used on him. “What’s so good about your heaven that Heaven can’t replicate?”

Not to say Heaven is bad. Castiel finds a kind of solace in the clean white corridors, and many angels (specifically high ranking ones) often wear basic black and white suits. Castiel himself has one on because it just happened to be what Jimmy Novak had been wearing, along with a tan trench coat that Castiel grew fond of. There are libraries that ran endless, collections of existing books and books that never came to pass, incomplete works and writings of dead writers in heaven.

There’s a garden tended to, by Joshua. He has to cross the Axis Mundi to get there, in the centre of Heaven. Castiel visits every now and then. Maybe a small part of him hoped to catch a glimpse of God every now and then, but he knew it’d never happen. Joshua told him so every time he came. Though, Castiel sticks around a while longer to look at the plants. The Garden appears differently to different people. It’s Eden for Castiel.

Pretty. So pretty.

The autistic man in his heaven would have liked Eden very much. 

“It’s my own,” Castiel finally answers.

Ishim half-scoffs, half-laughs, “Yeah, it is. Listen, Castiel, just gotten word from our superiors. We’ve been told to cut down on prayer-answering.” Castiel’s attention snaps right to him fully at that.

Castiel likes answering prayers. It’s one of the few things he felt a twinge of joy at, in all his emotionless years of living. He likes seeing his Father’s creations’ faces light up with euphoria when a prayer is answered. He likes looking out for them, the way God commanded them to do. He wonders if he’s the only one if the other angels knew about these fantastic humans and how to love them.

“Why?”

“Beats me,” Ishim shrugs. “Their orders.”

More orders. Of course. Castiel bites back any comments that could get him in trouble. He has heard of Naomi. He doesn’t recall what exactly is her role in Heaven, but he knows that she has a high position and rarely leaves her office, that angels are sent there. 

They never come back happy.

Castiel has a faint memory of passing through the corridors to get to her office, a blurry memory of her blonde hair and blue eyes, relaxing smile. Black suit. The Bible. Windows lining all around the walls except the one with the door. But he can’t remember if that’s a picture he’d imagined of her office or if it’s a real memory.

There are empty pockets of time in his history that Castiel feels he will never get to fill.

It’s alright. Castiel has bigger problems than remembering the March of 1298, June of 1587, January of 1962 and November of 1983. He doesn’t remember those months specifically when he runs through his timeline, but he has bigger problems.

Maybe his age is finally catching up to him.

**December 2, 1993**

_I_ _should have known._

It’s the only thing that runs through his mind when the click of his heels on linoleum tiles are the only sound as he makes his way down the corridor. At the end is the door to Naomi’s office. Faint memories of full wall windows where you can’t even see anything through the tinting break their way through into Castiel’s mind, just as his hand swings it open to reveal the sight to his sight. The single bible that sits on her desk; a version that only the angels are privy to possess. The humans have their own version. 

Castiel likes the angel version better. Obviously, it’s more factually correct. Castiel likes when things are correct, which is probably why he finds himself calmly sitting across from Naomi. An unconscious swipe of his hand over his trench coat to even it out gets a sharp glance from Naomi. The coldness of her glare makes something hot burn at his ears. If he were human, it might have been classified as shame.

He pulls the trench coat off. He almost feels naked without it, despite how he’s in a proper suit and tie attire. He hangs it on the back of his chair, just twisting his waist a little to make sure it drapes properly. Combs a hand through his hair.

_I should have known._

“Hello, Castiel,” she says. “My name is Naomi.”

“I know,” Castiel replies.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“I messed up,” he says before he can think through the phrasing. He internally cringes at how human it had sounded. He should have said he has failed to comply with his orders, or that he has disobeyed his superiors. Instead, he has stupidly said he messed up, and while true, it’s just more proof that he has indeed messed up. He tries to correct, “My apologies. I have disobeyed the orders of Heaven.”

Naomi simply nods, beginning to pace around her office. It sends a strange feeling through his body, like the blood in his veins has turned to ice. The small hairs on his hands stand on end, and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. He isn’t sure what humans would call this emotion. 

“Please make it known what order you disobeyed.”

“I answered a prayer,” Castiel says.

It had been the stillborn baby of a devout couple who Castiel knows has been trying for a long time to have a child. The parents have tried their best for nine months to make sure the pregnancy went as smoothly as possible, and he’d seen them prepare for the child’s arrival. They have their son’s room painted a beautiful shade of blue that reminds Castiel of the Forget-Me-Nots in the backyard of Jimmy Novak. There’s already a cot that the father constructed himself there. 

When he stood silently in the room, awaiting the birth of the child, he saw a female reaper materialise on the opposite side of the bed. Something painful twists in his gut when he realises what the woman is, a substance so dark and terrible that Castiel thinks that if he was human, what he’s experiencing would be labelled as dread and anxiety.

And then a nurse says it. She calls for a stillborn, and the reaper looks up at Castiel. Tessa, as he remembers her to be, says, “I have to take him.”

“No,” Castiel quickly says. “Give it a minute.”

She gives him a look that his emotionally-incompetent angel self can’t fully comprehend, and says, “Fine.”

Then finally, it happens. What Castiel wanted; the mother starts howling prayers to save her child as she cradles his limp body in her arms. The father bursts through the doors and cries, pleading on his knees for a higher power to save their son.

Tessa looks at him and asks, “Is that what you were waiting for?”

“Yes,” Castiel affirms.

“Are you going to save him?”

“Yes,” he repeats. He makes himself visible and walks over to them. The mother instinctively angles her son away from Castiel, his face unfamiliar to her.

“Who are you?” She asks through her tears. Castiel wishes that they weren’t sad tears, but then, he didn’t have to wait long.

He answers, keeping his voice level to convey his sincerity, “My name is Castiel. I’m an angel of the Lord. I heard your prayers. I can save your son.”

The parents exchange wide-eyed stares, but desperation wins over suspicion and she holds his body out to him, begging him to save his soul. Tessa watches quietly as Castiel lays a gentle hand to the boy’s head. Light emanates from his skin as Castiel concentrates. Calls the boy’s spirit back under his bones. Tells him it’s not his time.

And then the boy’s eyes open. He begins to wail, and the parents follow soon after. They cry out their gratitude and praise, dedicate themselves to God and Heaven. They even say they’ll forever be indebted to Castiel in particular.

Tessa smiles at him, slow and gentle. She mouths _thank God you did that._ Castiel isn't so sure that God had anything to do with it. 

But answering a prayer means Castiel has disobeyed an order, no matter how good a miracle he has performed, and that means that he has to visit Naomi.

She starts slow, has him reciting the bible out loud as she paces around her office. When he puts down the thick book, she says something he can no longer remember, and the next thing he knows, he’s back in the corridor.

The boy’s name was supposed to be Kevin.

Castiel can’t remember for the life of him who Kevin is supposed to be.

**March 17, 1998**

_Dear Sam,_

_So, it’s been a while since you called to say you got into Stanford. I’m happy for you, I guess. You always wanted a way out of the life Dad got us into. You got it. Good for you. Just keep your head up, okay? If things go bad, don’t go with them._

_Dad’s taking me out on more hunting trips since you left. I think he’s trying to fill the silence you left with monsters. I don’t really think I’m in any place to say anything about it, so I don’t. But I’m 99% sure Dad misses you. If you wanna tell him anything, I’m happy to pass a message._

_I guess I don’t have much else to talk about. I’m sure you’re busy anyway. You’re doing law, right? Awesome. Maybe one day, if I need it, you can bail me out with your legal shit. I already know you’re gonna rule every courtroom you walk into. You’ve always been really smart, Sammy. I could never do what you’re doing._

_Okay, okay. I’ll stop the letter here, I think. You must have a whole load of homework to do, yeah? But your nerdy brain likes doing homework, so it should be nothing for you. If you meet a nice girl, go for it. Life’s too short, and yours has just begun. You don’t have to worry about hunting anymore. Carpet Damn or something, I don’t know how to spell it and can’t be bothered to ask. But you better tell me all about whatever girl pitied you enough to give you a chance. Just kidding. You’re great._

_Alright. Do your big brother a favour and write me back, okay? Stay out of trouble, bitch._

_Dean_

**May 8, 2002**

The first prayer arrives on a Wednesday night.

Castiel tries to tune himself out whenever a prayer filters through. Ever since he’d gotten strict orders to cease prayer-answering after leaving Naomi’s office in February, he’d been desperately attempting to ignore even the most hopeless of prayers. One particular one breaks through the weak barrier Castiel has built up between himself and the endless stream of prayers.

It comes from somewhere in Stanford, California, by a man named Dean Winchester.

_This is Dean Winchester. Alright, I’m not exactly all Team God, but my brother is, so I’m not gonna rule it out. Uh, okay, I’m not good at this. First time._

Castiel lets down his guard and listens. A faithless man praying is not a frequent occurrence.

_I’m outside Stanford University right now. Which I guess isn’t very important, but uh, my brother’s dancing with that girl he likes. I came here to see him, you know, check in on him. Make sure he’s staying out of trouble, spend a couple of days here to catch up, you know? And it’s Sammy’s birthday today._

Castiel can’t help it; he flies down, stands a few feet away from where the prayer is coming from. He remains invisible, just watching Dean Winchester. He’s leaning against the wall, behind the school building. He’s obviously climbed the fence to get there. His face is shrouded in darkness from night-time. Castiel peers through the window -- it seems to be a school dance of sorts. Angelic knowledge makes it obvious which one is his brother. Sam Winchester has his hair in an awkward but young style, and he’s dancing with a girl.

“But I’m standing out here looking at him, right? And he’s doing just fine without me,” Dean continues talking. He kicks absently at a stone on the gravel, glances around like he’s making sure no school staff catches him sneaking around campus. “I guess, what I’m trying to say is... Look out for him. He’s worked hard to get here. To that school, that girl Jess he said he liked. Away from the hunting thing. So I don’t think he needs or wants me around to ruin shit for him, but I hope you can look out for Sammy for me.”

Castiel’s now in the auditorium. It didn’t even really look like a school anymore. It’s more like a ballroom with the way they’ve redecorated the auditorium and worked the lighting. He watches Sam Winchester whisper sweet nothings into Jessica Moore’s ear, watches her giggle and lets Sam spin her around before he pulls her right back into his arms. Sam’s soul is bright, red with passion and soft blue with contentedness. Jessica’s is a bright yellow with optimism, with tinges of a happy red-orange and light purples.

 _If anyone’s up there, anyway. If not, then... I don’t know. Worth the shot, right, since Sam kinda likes you guys._ Dean takes a pause. _Right, I think I’ll stop here. You’ve probably got more important things to handle anyway. Okay. Thanks, I guess._

Then Dean’s walking away from the building, and Castiel’s outside once again to watch him climb over the fence, avoiding the barbed wire with practised expertise. He gets into a black 1967 Chevy Impala, car plate number KAZ2Y5. Puts on a song -- Castiel thinks he should really get to know some Earth music -- and drives away from campus.

Castiel gives Sam Winchester one final look, commits his image to memory, and flies away.

This doesn’t count as a prayer, as far as Castiel is concerned. He’s not asking for a miracle, just favour. He repeats to himself that this is not disobedience, that he is still upholding his orders to not answer prayers. Maybe if he repeats it enough, he’ll convince everyone else.

**July 4, 2002**

“Castiel!”

“Inias,” Castiel acknowledges, stopping in his tracks to let the other angel catch up. “How are you?”

“Good, good,” Inias says, falling into step with Castiel as they walk down the hallway. “Constantine and Samandriel were thinking of going down to Earth, see America.”

“What for?”

“Fourth of July. There’s going to be fireworks, a lot of noise. It’s more than a little quiet up here,” Inias says. He glances over at him, gives a faint smile, “They asked if you wanted to come. I thought you would like to watch the celebrations. I know you have a soft spot for the humans.”

He does. He knows he does, but the fact still sounds somewhat foreign to him. He’s sure Inias is right -- he has never lied to him.

Inias’ vessel has honest blue eyes and an easy grin. Trustworthy is the first thing that comes to mind. Castiel doesn’t really know how to smile the way Inias does. Somehow, it always feels like something in him stops him from doing it, from showing too much.

Even the small smile he gave Inias a few moments before had shot an unsettling feeling of... icy blue in his hands. Fiery orange on his neck, like barbed wire stinging his skin. He doesn’t know what emotion that’s supposed to be.

“I can spare the time,” Castiel says. He meant to say ‘I’d love to’.

“Fantastic,” Inias smiles. “I’ll go get Samandriel and Constantine, then we can go. Constantine really wants to go to Illinois for this, for some reason.”

Castiel knows Illinois. Jimmy Novak lived there before he took him as his vessel. Maybe he should check on his family.

Once they’re all together, Castiel, Samandriel, Inias and Constantine all fly down to Illinois for the fourth of July celebrations. As they watch fireworks go off, Castiel decides to walk off, telling Inias that he’ll come to find him when he’s back.

It’s a little way into a clearing that he hears a man on the phone

“Sam, hey. How are you?”

 _Dean Winchester_ , Castiel quickly realises. He considers turning invisible, but he just stands there, listening.

“It’s Dean. I’m guessing you’re celebrating with Jess today since you didn’t pick up. Which is cool, hope your day went great. Hey, maybe Jess will wear one of those sexy American flag costumes. Kidding, kidding. I’m in Illinois right now, got a new case about a werewolf. I messed up real bad on our last one, so Dad told me to sit this one out. Which is fine with me. Fourth of July, man,” Dean says into his phone, leaning against his car as he glances up at the sky. He holds his phone between his ear and shoulder as he moves to open the trunk, revealing a box of fireworks. Castiel has a fleeting moment of wonder of where he even got them from.

“You’re not here right now. Like... the past two years... but! But, I’ve still got fireworks. I’m lighting ‘em up in true Winchester fashion,” Dean says, opening the box to take them out, arranging them on the ground. “Wish you were here, Sammy. Would’ve made today pretty awesome. Okay, I’ll leave you. Say hi to Jess for me, yeah? Bye.”

He hangs up and tosses his phone into the driver’s seat through the window. He curses under his breath as he fishes through the glove box to find a matchbox. 

Something in Castiel compels him forward, and he conjures a matchbox and lighter for him, holding them out, “Have mine.”

Dean turns around, startled by the sudden voice. It’s the first time Castiel is seeing Dean soul. Though Castiel can see his fellow angels’ vessels, humans mainly resemble glowing figures of light to him, with only faint physical features present. Dean is a warm glow of pastel green and a crystal blue. It’s probably the most beautiful soul Castiel has ever seen.

When he notices Castiel there, Dean’s warmth is tinged with a spot of dark orange.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Castiel,” he answers.

“How long have you been there?” Dean asks, looking him up and down. Judging him, perhaps.

He replies, “A few minutes. I’m... not from here. I apologise if I alarmed you. I do not mean any harm.”

Dean frowns; his soul loses the orange, but there’s a little white that shows itself in the green. He finally trails off, “Okay...”

Castiel offers the lighter and matchbox again and asks, “Do you still need these?”

Dean nods, taking them from him, “Thanks, man. So, where are you from, if not here?”

Castiel watches as Dean fixes up the fireworks, makes sure it’s arranged the way he wants them to be. He replies, “Not here.” He knows he should just say he’s from Heaven, that he heard Dean’s prayer from when he was outside Stanford University on his brother’s birthday, but he can’t say it for some reason. The words get caught in his throat, and his eyes can’t seem to focus on one spot too long. He doesn’t know how a human would classify this emotion,

Dean shrugs and stands back. The ropes attached to the fireworks begin to burn and he says, “Yeah, neither am I. I’m not sticking around long, pretty sure I’ll be gone tomorrow.” He leans against the car, waiting for the ropes to burn completely, and he shifts to his right after glancing at him. “Wanna watch? It’s gonna be pretty cool.”

“Of course,” Castiel says. He tries to copy the way Dean rests on the car but decides that his trench coat presses uncomfortably against his back and proceeds to just stand next to Dean. The ropes finally burn to the edges and the fireworks start to set off.

Bright, noisy displays of sparks of every colour of the rainbow burst above them. Castiel reaches a hand out absently as the sparks rain down, and he can hear Dean chuckling next to him in enjoyment. The fireworks look beautiful, going off exactly when they’re supposed to. Dean has obviously done this more than once -- with Sam, from his call earlier.

After a few minutes, the fireworks slowly die off until only coloured smoke is left behind, floating through the air and trailing an unpleasant smell with it. Dean goes to keep the box in the trunk again, asking, “Wasn’t that great?”

“It was,” Castiel nods. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Nah, it’s nothing,” Dean waves dismissively. He shuts the trunk and turns to face Castiel. His soul is brighter than earlier, bubbling with energy as the green mixes with light yellow. He’s excited? Happy? Castiel is still unsure of human emotions as of presently. “I usually do this with my brother, but he’s elsewhere. My dad’s busy, so.” He kicks at a stone on the ground and Castiel watches it roll off into a crevice in the soil. “Next best thing? The guy that happened to walk past, right?”

“Right,” Castiel says, uncertain if that’s the correct thing to say. He assumes it so.

Dean introduces, “I’m Dean Winchester.”

“Castiel.”

Dean gives him a lopsided smile as he folds his arms, shifting into a more relaxed stance. Castiel considers trying to smile back, thinking that it should be something he must do in a situation like this, but his face refuses to move. The emotion feels like it’s just clawing at his insides, desperate to show but restrained by chains. “Yeah, you said that already. Just Castiel?”

“Just Castiel,” he affirms. A strange look passes Dean’s face after that -- again, he just can’t identify it. It’s like if Dean’s smile is a flame that has been extinguished, and he unfolds his arms at a pace that suggests to Castiel that he is about to move forward. He doesn’t, simply just standing where he is.

“I get it,” Dean says. “Bad family?”

Castiel won’t consider his “family” bad... There’s some of his brothers and sisters that he does like. Inias, Constantine and Samandriel, to name a few, otherwise he wouldn’t have come down with them for the American humans’ Fourth of July celebrations. Yes, he may not have a mother, and he has never met his father, but...

“Perhaps,” Castiel starts, slowly. “I may have misjudged my family.”

“I think we all tend to do that,” he says. “Got a brother? Or sister.”

“Many,” Castiel says.

“They any good?”

“Sometimes.”

Dean nods, tilting his head to the side momentarily in a way that suggested that it was alright, as far as Castiel can comprehend his actions. He asks, “Parents?”

“Never met Father, only four of us have and I’m not it,” Castiel says. “I don’t have a mother.”

The blues of Dean’s soul are suddenly tinged with a darker shade. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” Castiel assures. “And what of your father?”

“He’s great,” Dean says. The blue lightens a little, but not significantly. Castiel faintly recalls Dean telling Sam that he messed up --

Disobeyed direct orders from John Winchester. “Messed up” is a human phrase.

“You know, he ain’t as bad as Sammy makes him out to be,” Dean says. “He patches me up after a hard day, looks out for me most times... Took me fishing once, there’s that. And, uh, yeah. He’s great.” Somehow, Castiel sincerely doubts that, but he says nothing about it. He knows his place.

“I must be going,” he says instead. He doesn’t really want to leave, but Inias, Samandriel and Constantine must be waiting for him to return to Heaven, and he can’t hold them up.

The darker blue of Dean’s soul doesn’t change much, and he moves forward a little. “Oh, man. Well, nice meeting ya, Castiel. Weird name.”

“Well, it is my name regardless,” he says. “Thank you for the fireworks, Dean.”

“Sure thing,” Dean says. “If we meet again, maybe we’ll have lunch or something, yeah?”

“I don’t eat,” Castiel says. His voice involuntarily turns down near the end and his gaze pulls away from Dean’s. If he were human... He doesn’t know.

However, Dean does know, and he waves a hand dismissively. “All good. You can just watch me eat.”

“Okay,” Castiel says. “I really have to go. My brothers are waiting.”

Dean waves, this time it’s not to dismiss a statement, but to bid him goodbye. “Bye, Castiel.”

“Goodbye, Dean,” he says. He walks until Dean is far out of sight, and he rejoins with the three angels to fly home.


	2. When The Levee Breaks

_If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we're made for another world._  
**C.S. Lewis**

**October 23, 2002**

The second prayer comes in October, from somewhere in Colorado. Dean speaks softly and slowly like it’s laborious to do so. Castiel’s ears prick up as he hears the prayer come through.

_Hey. I need a little help, I... I left my phone in Baby and Dad left a couple of days ago because, surprise, I screwed up again. I’m under this collapsed barn in Colorado. I, uh. I can’t breathe much._

Castiel feels this pang in his chest like his heart has pins stuck through them and his ribs have tightened around his lungs. No human comparison comes to mind.

_Help me... Please? I can’t breathe._

Castiel is outside the barn in an instant. As Dean said, it’s collapsed. Castiel can’t see Dean from where he’s standing, so he starts circling around the rubble to find him.

_Please, I... I don’t have anyone else to ask. I can’t leave Sammy. Please._

Dean sounds like he has swallowed glass and choked on his own words. He can’t quite place the emotion, but the word ‘fear’ comes to mind. The prayer being said aloud helps Castiel as he manages to hear his weak voice. He rushes over to where he heard it from, seeing Dean struggling to get a heavy piece of rubble off of him with splinters in his fingers.

He uses two hands and braces the side of it, lifting it up and allowing it to roll off Dean’s body. Dean takes a deep breath, gasping as he shoots up into a sitting position. Castiel bends down to help him sit upright.

When Dean’s calmed down enough to pull his gaze up to Castiel, his soul is tinted pink, “Castiel?”

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asks. “And thanks for helping me.”

Castiel nods, replying, “It’s no trouble. And to your question, I heard your prayer.”

A wave of grey washes over Dean’s soul at that, and he mumbles, “I wasn’t talking that loud, was I? That’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not,” Castiel assures. In his thousands of years alive, Castiel has seen many kinds of prayers; people who whisper them in the dark, people who cried them in a church and people who pleaded them under a collapsed barn. “I simply have keen hearing. How did you get stuck?”

“I was investigating and then that damn ghost decided it wanted me to die,” Dean grumbles. He pauses and his soul suddenly has maroon at the edges. “Ah, crap. You gotta think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t,” Castiel says. “I know about ghosts.”

Dean loses the maroon tips and looks at him, only a faint spot of dull yellow in the blue. “You’re a hunter?”

“Of sorts,” Castiel says, the answer tumbling out before he can even think about it.

Dean shifts to properly face Castiel and starts firing off, “How do you kill a werewolf?”

“Silver.”

“Djinn?”

“Silver knife drenched in lamb blood.”

“Demon?”

“You could exorcise them or use the Colt,” Castiel says easily.

Finally, yellow dissipates into blue and Dean says, “It’s good to have another hunter around. You wanna help me with this son of a bitch ghost?”

Castiel nods and stands, holding out a hand to help Dean up, “Of course, Dean.” Once they step out of the rubble, he asks, “Why did your father leave?”

Dean shrugs, “We were after this vampire nest, but I accidentally screwed up the plan. We were gonna ambush them and things didn’t go according to what he had in mind. He got mad and said some stuff, and I’m on my own. For now, at least. He’s handling the nest on his own.” He starts walking around the rubble, looking for something.

“It’s not your fault. We all make mistakes,” Castiel tries to placate Dean as he follows him. He truly didn’t believe Dean was in the wrong. The thing that was so beautiful about humans is that they weren’t perfect. Apparently, that’s what makes humans what they are, their ability to fail. A part of Castiel envies that. He doesn’t always like having to masquerade as a perfect soldier.

He envies room for wrong.

“Yeah, but soldiers don’t get to make any,” Dean says, his blue turning a shade darker. He bends down and pushes some planks away, frowning when nothing comes up. “Enough about me. Were you on a case?”

“I happened to pass by. I’m not on any case,” Castiel answers. He turns the conversation back on Dean, not wanting to talk about himself, “How is Sam?”

“He’s doing good. That girl Jess, she’s good for him, you know? Makes him real happy. I’m glad he’s got her,” Dean says.

Castiel questions, “Do you have anybody like that? Someone who makes you ‘real happy’?”

“Nah. Don’t have the time for anything like that,” Dean says dismissively. Dark blue fades into a dark purple. “You?”

Castiel doesn’t really have any friends. Maybe a few angels he liked who felt the same about him, but other than that, nobody. The angels keep their distance from each other anyway. He guesses the only one who can be considered a close friend would be Balthazar, but he has long been dead, as far as Castiel knows. Also Anael, but he hasn’t spoken to her in a while.

“No,” Castiel mutters. “I don’t have any friends.”

Dean pauses in his search and turns to him, extending his arms as his soul glows with white. “You got me, Cas.” The edges of Castiel’s lips tug upwards but quickly fall back into the same flat line. Dean says, “Okay, we’re looking for a gold bracelet here.”

Castiel nods, walking the other way around the collapsed barn to start his search for the object. He can easily find it with his angelic abilities, but he liked being around Dean and he’s not too keen on the idea of ending their meeting too soon. Dean calls out, “Hey, you got a salt gun?”

Castiel’s hand pushes some broken crates away and pulls out an iron crowbar from underneath, “I have iron.” Dean gives him a thumbs up and turns back to his area.

“After this, I’m gonna head to a bar, get a drink. You wanna come with?” Dean offers, kicking crumbled beams away to search the ground.

“It’s a den of iniquity, I can’t --“ Castiel cuts himself off. Did he really care? What are the chances that they’ll find out if he just doesn’t tell anyone? “I’ll come with you.”

“Great,” Dean says happily. “Oh, shit. I think I found -- Crap!”

As Dean’s fingers graze the golden bracelet, the ghost of a middle-aged woman appears behind him, smacking him aside. When Dean is caught off-guard and collides with the ground, scrambling to grab the salt gun that’s been knocked out of his hands, Castiel teleports behind the ghost and grabs her. She stares at him, eyes wide with something doused in yellow and blue, and she disappears in his touch with a wisp of smoke. Dean turns around just in time as Castiel lowers his hand.

“Where did she go?”

“I... hit her with the crowbar,” Castiel says. “Let’s destroy the bracelet before she returns.”

They go on ahead to destroy it, and Castiel doesn’t say anything about how he’d already sent her to the afterlife.

* * *

Castiel steps into the bar after Dean does, feeling like he’s walking on needles and someone’s fingers are wrapped tightly around his lungs. Dean’s laugh is easy and light, but every step makes the trench coat on his shoulders weigh more. If he were human. If he were human, it would be classified as...

Guilt.

_Forgive me, Father._

“Come on, Cas,” Dean says, turning around to look at him. “Those drinks aren’t buying themselves.”

“I shouldn’t have come,” Castiel says quietly. “I apologize for wasting your time. I’ll take my leave.”

Dean frowns, “What? Why? It’s not that bad here, is it? I thought you agreed to -- Wait. The whole ‘den of iniquity’ thing, is that what this is about?”

Castiel’s gaze drops to the ground as he says, “Yes.”

Dean stops walking and says, “Hey, if it bothers you that much, we can just go to my motel room and hang out there. All good with me.”

With that, Castiel finds himself following Dean to his car. Dean instantly puts the radio on, and it starts playing an old rock song. Dean’s soul is happy with bright yellow and he notes, “Led Zeppelin. You like them?”

“What’s a Led Zeppelin?”

“ _A Led Zeppelin_? You’re kidding, right?” Dean asks, taking his eyes off the road for a second to give Castiel a look. “They’re a really good band. Never made a bad song in their life. I’ll show you more of their stuff if we have the time.”

On the drive back to Dean’s motel, Castiel simply sits and listens as Dean sings along to the tunes of his radio. Impressively enough, he knows every word, every guitar riff, and though his notes fall flat here and there, he does sing quite well for someone with no training. His soul glows light red and yellow with passion and joy, and Castiel decides that he likes it when Dean sings. He likes how happy he is doing it.

They finally roll into the parking lot and Dean gets out, getting out his room key as Castiel shuts the door behind him. Dean locks the car and leads him to his room.

It’s small, of course, and a little dirty. It’s still bearable, though. There’s a single queen-sized bed in the room, which is no surprise since John’s been gone for a while. Dean says, in a tone Castiel only assumes is apologetic, “I got a single because I didn’t think I was gonna run into anyone. You have a motel somewhere?”

“No.”

“Well, if you wanna crash here, I can switch this room for a double,” Dean says. “No trouble.”

“No, I don’t think I should intrude,” Castiel says. “Once it’s late, I’ll take my leave. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Dean grins, saying, “Man, stop with the formalities. We’re friends.”

Castiel feels a gentle tug of a smile on his lips, and he lets himself go with it. It feels different, but a good kind of different. Dean seems to like it too, because his smile just widens as he teases, “Look at that. You’re smiling.”

“I don’t do that often,” Castiel says. His voice sounds dark purple. If he were human, it might get classified as sadness, maybe frustration. Castiel is still learning.

“You should. Looks good on you,” Dean compliments. He passes Castiel his phone and at his narrowed eyes, he explains, “Key your number in. Can’t always rely on running into you.”

“I don’t have a... number,” Castiel replies, still staring at the phone.

Dean’s soul drips with grey; confusion? “You don’t have a phone? Okay, what about an email address?”

“No.”

“Just an address?”

Castiel says, voice flat with the realization of how sad his situation sounds, “I don’t have one.” Being an angel, he never had reason to have earthly devices like technology. It’s just occurring to him now that Dean would have been expecting him to have at least something.

Dean stares at him in silence for a few moments before he asks, “Do you wanna come with me? Dad’s not talking to me and Sam’s at school. Plus, having a friend on the road would be fun.”

“I can’t stay very long,” Castiel says. Heaven will call him back eventually. He hated it sometimes.

“Why?”

 _I’m a servant of Heaven_ , Castiel almost says, but the words get caught in his throat. Dean is a hunter, and the iciness under his skin and fire in his fingertips only tells him that he feared that if he found out Castiel was an angel, he would become one of the many creatures to make it onto Dean’s list of supernatural creatures to kill. He didn’t want to see Dean’s soul draped in dark orange distrust and black shades of death. 

“I have other prior attachments,” he ends up lying. It leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

“Okay,” Dean relents. “But you can stay for the night?”

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel says.

Dean shoves his phone into his pocket, using his thumb to point over his shoulder to the door. “Then I’ll go change this room for a double. Sound good?”

“I don’t sleep,” Castiel quickly says. He doesn’t want Dean to waste money on an extra bed when it won’t be in use.

Dean’s soul has a faint sheen of light blue; understanding. “I’ll wake you up if it gets bad, okay? Try and get some sleep.” Castiel’s eyes narrow with lack of comprehension as Dean leaves the motel room, but he realizes that Dean assumed that he doesn’t sleep because he gets nightmares. The reminder that Dean still doesn’t know he is an angel, it lights a flame behind his neck -- shame, Castiel thinks. He’s getting more and more used to emotions, the longer he stays around Dean. He can’t decide if that’s good or not.

Dean returns not too long after with a new key. “We’re just a couple doors down. Let’s move.” Castiel wordlessly follows him to the new room, taking a seat on the bed closest to the window after Dean says he prefers the inner side.

Once settled, Dean takes out his laptop to look for a new case. He asks, “You have any hunting buddies?”

“No,” Castiel replies. Angels don’t hunt, they just smite whatever needed smiting, and then they left. Castiel is aware of how mundane it sounds, but in light of the bigger picture, the monsters are hardly worth the time.

Dean’s lips press into a frown, “You’ve really got no one?”

“I... I suppose I do not,” Castiel says, eyes looking down at the ground. He’d never thought that he was lonely until Dean started asking all these questions. He isn’t close to most of his angel siblings. He had no mother and has never met his Father. He had no real friends. He had himself, and now, maybe, Dean.

Dean assures, “Well, I was thinking.”

“About what?”

“Bobby’s always open to meeting new hunters,” Dean says. “He’s this family friend of mine. Maybe I could take you to Sioux Falls, introduce you. He’ll make you feel right at home. Probably let you stay with him.”

“Do you not have a home?”

“Does Baby count?” Dean asks, grinning. Castiel feels cold at the edges; sympathy?

Apology. Castiel feels sorry.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Dean cuts in, “I like it this way, though.”

“Always moving?”

“Never stopping,” he affirms, smiling. Before Castiel can say anything else in response, Dean turns the laptop screen to him and says, “Hey, here’s something. Teenager disappeared in San José. Wanna check it out tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“Great. Well, gonna get some shut-eye for the drive tomorrow,” Dean stretches, getting into his bed. “Try to get some sleep. Maybe take off those layers, the air conditioner ain’t the best.”

To humor Dean, Castiel obeys, taking off the coat and blazer to set them carefully on the desk chair. He lies in his bed, hands folded neatly over his stomach as he stares up at the ceiling. Dean turns the lamp off and mumbles a good night.

When Dean has long gone to sleep, Castiel tries, but he is hit with the painful awareness that he is not human.

**October 29, 2002**

_Dear Sam,_

_Happy almost-Halloween, I guess. Do we even like the holiday? Whatever. Are you and Jess going trick or treating? I’m not, but if you do, have fun._

_School seems to be going great for you. I’m glad about that. Just ignore that teacher, sounds like he’s just pissy for no reason. He’s just jealous that you’re smarter than him and have an actual shot at being a real lawyer._

_I met a hunter a while ago, this guy called Castiel. I call him Cas, way shorter and better. He’s this nerdy little dude, but he’s nice to be around. Talks a little like a robot but you get used to it. He knows what he’s doing and he’s not a shabby hunter either. He doesn’t dress like one, though. Wears a full suit and a trench coat over it. Has no gear of his own. But he helped me out when I got trapped under a barn, so I’m not complaining. He also helped with this shapeshifter case in San José. Maybe Dad will come back when he hears about it._

_Hey, if you’re free anytime soon, I could come see you at Stanford? We could get a drink, catch up in real life for once. I know we write and call, but I miss my brother. If he’s around, maybe I could introduce you and Cas to each other. I think you’d really like him, he’s all smart and stuff like you._

_Anyway, call me sometime or write back. Good luck with school and Jess._

_Dean_

**November 5, 2002**

There isn’t much to do in Heaven except ensuring that the souls go where they’re supposed to and keeping it running smoothly. Castiel finds himself bored with his duties in Heaven. He’s not the highest of levels in the angel food chain, which means he not only rarely gets informed about the inner workings, but he also doesn’t get much to do, only having to await his next order by Ishim, his current garrison leader.

God knows Castiel would rather be anywhere else than sitting around waiting for Ishim to boss him around, so he decides that staying isn’t worth it, and goes back down to Earth to seek Dean Winchester out.

Castiel wonders if he should be finding other human friends, and a part of him worries that he may be overcrowding Dean, but he doesn’t know how to start going about that. He finds Dean in the middle of a vampire nest, fighting the horde alone.

“Dean!” Castiel calls out, drawing his angel blade from his sleeve. Dean’s head snaps to the sound of his voice, eyes widening in surprise.

“Cas?” He says, dodging the fangs of a vampire and pulling it into a chokehold, slicing its head off by the neck. Castiel decapitates two vampires as Dean tackles one. They don’t communicate through words, fighting alongside each other to take down the nest. Castiel refrains from using his angelic powers in front of him. Watching Dean let the blood drain from the vampires’ bodies with such ease sends chills down Castiel’s spine; fear. _Would Dean want to do that to me if he found out I wasn't human?_

With Castiel’s help, they manage to take all the vampires out, and Dean drops his blade to the ground. The clatter echoes through the room as he collapses into a chair, sighing. “Oh, shit. That was close.”

Castiel tries to smile. “Hello, Dean.”

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, man,” Dean says, grin in his voice as his soul lights up with a happy shade of yellow. “But it’s good to see you. What are you doing here?”

“Just passing by,” Castiel says, his now-default answer and lie to Dean.

Dean laughs, running a hand down his face. Castiel watches the way his blood-stained fingertips leave a faint trail across his features. It doesn’t bother him, and Dean jokes, “Why do you always happen to be around when I’m being a bad hunter? I promise I’m better than I’m coming off.”

“You don’t need to prove it to me,” Castiel replies. “I’m sure you’re a very capable hunter. How long have you been doing this?”

“Since I was a kid. Dad got me into the family business early,” Dean answers. “He wanted to catch the thing that killed my mom.”

Castiel glances at Dean, hoping that whatever expression on his face seems inviting enough that Dean would elaborate. No luck, however, because Dean steels up into an intense dark blue and purple mixture, which Castiel has quickly learned meant that he was frustrated or upset. He looks away to the ground; he doesn’t know why he does that, but it’s always been a habit of his. Maybe in hopes that it will turn the conversation into one of a warmer nature.

It manages to work somehow, because Dean gets up and reclaims his blade, asking, “Wanna go for a drive? I’ll play you more Led Zepp.”

“I would like that.”

Castiel’s back in the front seat again, only sparing the occasional glance at Dean, but his eyes mainly stay glued to the road much like Dean’s. He has a fear that Dean secretly knows what he actually is, and maybe that’s why he keeps checking on him, make sure he’s where he is. That his hands are where they were before, and that his angel blade is safely stored.

The song playing is _When the Levee Breaks_ , according to Dean. It's actually not bad, and Castiel assures Dean that he agrees that Led Zeppelin is a good band. The album _Led Zeppelin IV_ plays as they talk.

"How did you become a hunter?" Dean starts off.

"I was born into it, I suppose," Castiel says. God did create him with the ability to smite monsters, after all. 

Dean nods, sparing him a look before his eyes return to the road, "You're a lot like me."

"In many ways, we are," Castiel agrees. Absent fathers and distant siblings. While Castiel is sure that Sam is closer to Dean than his angel siblings are to him, Sam is still in California while Dean drives all over the country. They were both hunters, in their own ways. There are things both of them wanted to do but were never allowed; Castiel can see it in the way Dean is always a little tired, the way he talks about his brother. He can see how he wants to have a life like Sam's. A peaceful life with a partner. Maybe a long time ago, Dean wanted to go to school. In another world, he did well enough to have a good office job and a big house he could afford, and he didn't have to be cold in the Impala when snow hits.

Castiel just wants to feel something.

"You know, Sam's free on Christmas week," Dean suddenly says. "I told him about you and he said he'd like to meet you. You free to drop by California then? Jess is making mac and cheese or something, and Sam says it's real good."

"Okay," Castiel accepts the invitation. He adds, like an afterthought, "I don't eat."

Dean eyes him for a few moments, light blues of his soul being a little more obvious, "You don't eat, don't sleep. No friends and family. No home to go to. You okay, man?"

"Yes," Castiel answers. There's a silence like Dean's waiting for him to continue talking, but he doesn't know what else to say without admitting that he's one of the supernatural creatures he hates so severely.

" _Seriously_ , Cas," Dean says. "What's wrong?"

 _Everything_ ; the word rests on the tip of Castiel's tongue. "Nothing, Dean. I'm just like that."

"Nobody's just the way they are, something happens and then people become who they are," Dean points out. "I mean, if Dad never made me a hunter, I wouldn't even be here. I'd probably be in a university like Sam, or working some lame office job. Who knows? How'd you get here?"

"I just... became," Castiel says. He's drenched in yellow. If he were human, he'd be a coward.

**December 25, 2002**

Castiel lands outside the door of Sam's apartment. Dean had told him the last time they met, where Sam lives. He'd been skeptical about the chances of him remembering the address correctly without writing it down, but obviously he has underestimated Castiel's memory. The missing days of his timeline poke and prod at his consciousness and he pushes it down to a dark corner where he won't think of it because he's sure that bringing your problems to a stranger's event is not socially acceptable. At least, that's what he thinks.

His knuckles rap on the door twice and he waits. A woman answers the door, her bright smile greeting him. He recognizes her soul instantly: Jessica Moore.

"Hi, you must be Castiel! Dean told us you were coming," she smiles. "Come in. Dean's in the living room, Sam's in the kitchen."

"Thank you," Castiel says, walking in. It's certainly well lived-in, despite how recent the apartment renting must have been. There are framed photographs on the wall; many of Sam and Jess, and only two that have Dean in them, but they are only of him as a child. It's the first time he's seeing Sam and Jess exactly how they look like to the human eye, souls disregarded. Sam has soft brown hair in a boyish cut with a fringe, and his smile is wide and eyes inviting. His dimples are deep and he's tall, making Jess seem shorter next to him. Jess herself is beautiful, with blonde hair and clear blue eyes, with a grin that reminded Castiel faintly of the way the sun reflects in the lake in his heaven.

He can only imagine how Dean looks like when he can look past his soul. It must be beautiful with a soul like that.

"Cas, you made it," Dean grins easily. "Sammy, here's Cas!"

Sam comes out of the kitchen and says, "Hey, I'm Sam. Dean told me about you. Thanks for helping Dean out, man."

"It's no problem," Castiel says. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Least I could do. Have a seat," Sam says, gesturing to the table. It's already been set for four, and once Sam is back in the kitchen and out of earshot, Castiel turns to Dean.

"You invited me because your father didn't want to come," Castiel says. He's not sure if it's meant to be a question, general statement or even an accusation. He doesn't even know why it would be an accusation, but the way his heart picks up just the slightest bit as his hands land on his thighs when he sits tells him it is what it is.

Dean instantly denies, "No. I promise you, you're here because I just wanted to get you and my brother familiar, that's all. Dad wanting to be here or not doesn't change that." After a moment passes, when Castiel is satisfied with the answer enough to not add anything else, Dean asks, "Are you gonna eat?"

"I told you, I don't --"

"You don't eat, yeah, I know," Dean says. "You can't just starve forever."

"I can, actually," Castiel replies. Before Dean can say anything, Jess appears with the finished bowl of mac and cheese. It steams with a fresh smell of melted cheese and the gold tones glow under the dining table light. It actually looks appetizing, if only Castiel could actually taste the food itself instead of every separate molecule. He tries to think of a way to get out of eating.

"I'm sick," he blurts out. Jess raises her eyebrows in surprise. "No appetite." At least that part isn't a lie.

"Oh no. I'll go get you a glass of water," she offers.

Castiel declines, raising a hand to stop her, "No, it's alright. I think I'll just watch your television." Dean's soul taints dark purple and black; frustration and seriousness? Jess and Sam's remain normal if only colored grey at the edges with concern.

It's five minutes into an episode of a cartoon about a cat and mouse that Sam walks in.

"So, you like Tom and Jerry?"

"I don't know who Tom and Jerry are," Castiel replies.

Sam smiles, his greys changing from concern to an amused kind of confusion. "Tom's the cat. Jerry's the mouse."

"I see," Castiel nods. He watches Tom and Jerry chase one another for a few more seconds before he asks, "Is Dean upset?"

"No, no. Just worried," Sam assures. "He thinks you're like, not letting yourself eat out of trauma or something. Don't get us wrong, we've got our fair share of crazy shit we've seen. You're a hunter, and from the sounds of it, you've been doing this longer than him and obviously me. It's okay, you know, to admit you've got troubles. We don't judge. Dean just wants to help you."

Castiel mutters, "He refuses to realize that this isn't something I'm putting myself through. I just don't need to eat. I've gotten on fine without eating for years."

Sam frowns, and his hands run up and down his thighs in thought. "Okay. I think you can take care of yourself, so I'm gonna leave you be. But, you know, Jess worked hard on that mac and cheese. If I bring you a small bowl, will you eat it? If just to make her happy."

Castiel moves to say no but catches himself just before. "Of course, Sam."

"Thanks, Cas. I owe you one," Sam says, standing. "And Dean's not mad, so maybe you two can go for a drive. Explain why you don't need to eat or something, yeah?"

"Okay," Castiel says. Yet another lie.

* * *

Castiel and Dean are alone in the kitchen after everyone's done eating. Sam and Jess are picking a movie to play, and Castiel felt a small speck of joy in him at the way Jess's soul sparks bright yellow with happiness when Castiel lied and said he loved her meal. He's sure it tasted great because Sam and Dean seem to be very pleased with it, but it tasted like bland molecules to him. He wished he could taste it properly.

Dean offered to wash the dishes, insisting that the two go figure out a movie, and Castiel had followed him in to bid him goodbye. Ishim prayed to him to tell him to come back at once for heavenly duties. It's nothing invigorating, but he was still needed.

"I have to leave," he says. "I've already said goodbye to Sam and Jess."

"At least stay for the movie," Dean says, only sparing him a quick glance over the shoulder. 

"I wish I could, but I am needed," Castiel replies. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Wait, wait," Dean shuts off the tap and dries his hands on a towel. He leaves the kitchen and returns a few minutes later with a small parcel. "I got something for you."

Castiel frowns. "I didn't get you anything. My apologies."

"Don't worry about it. Open it," Dean says. Castiel carefully unwraps it, trying his best not to just rip through the packaging. He goes through the two layers of newspaper comic strips and gets to the gift -- a phone. Dean grins, "So we can stop meeting when I'm about to die. I already keyed me and Sam’s numbers in there. If you want, you can ask Jess for hers, she'll probably give it to you, she likes you."

"Thank you, Dean," Castiel says. "But I really have to go now."

"Call me when you can."

"Of course."


	3. Feel Something

_I’m sick of all the piddling pack._   
_I’d like to scram, get clean away,_   
_and never, nevermore come back._   
**Robert William Service**

**January 23, 2003**

Castiel believes in God.

He should. He _must_. It doesn’t matter if he does. It is only when doubt is sown into minds that failure quickly follows. Castiel doesn’t like to fail.

Though, whether he _wants_ to believe or not is another question. A part of Castiel has always longed for something more. Something no angel has even grazed the idea of -- free will. He’s never had it, not even a taste. It’s probably the thing about humans he envies most. 

Only four angels have seen Father; Lucifer, Raphael, Gabriel, and Michael. Castiel is far from being high-ranking enough to glimpse God. A prick of dull yellow jealousy and dark purple frustration edges its way into Castiel's heart. He'd actually like to meet the Father he'd been serving as a soldier under. It was only fair, after all. Nobody liked fighting a war without knowing the side they're on, it is only common sense. He just doesn't understand why nobody else felt the same.

Perhaps the problem lies with Castiel. Maybe everyone else is right to trust a man they do not know so wholeheartedly, and he is the one with the loose screws. _Doubt paves the way to perdition_. The words sound through his skull like a drum, hammering into all his senses the mantra that has quickly lost its meaning. They meant nothing to him, spare being a string of reconfigured alphabets.

Castiel absently tilts his foot, letting a little yellow leaf fall off the tip of his shoe. He's back in his heaven. Yes, maybe he should be somewhere else where nobody can find him, so he can get a few minutes of quiet, pretend he doesn't have duties that need to be done. But they won't let him. They will never let him, as long as he lives, escape for even a second.

So, his personal heaven will do. He watches the lake move slowly with the wind and his lip twitches as a leaf tumbles down from his hair down to the soft grass. He closes his eyes and draws a deep breath, taking it all in. Life is indeed beautiful if Castiel chose to, ironically, ignore his life.

The phone in his coat pocket suddenly seems obvious as his fingers brush over the bump of the fabric. Dean had given it to him along with a note, 'password' scribbled across it in thin black marker. He'd figured out how to unlock the phone and access its functions, though actually using it is a different problem altogether.

It has been almost a month since he has last seen Dean, at Sam's apartment for Christmas.

It's not that he has been actively avoiding the human, but there seems to be a force in him that drives him the opposite direction every time he tries to make contact.

 _Call him_.

His hand stops right at his pocket, where the corner of the phone is already showing at the edge. Something in him refuses to let his hand move any further as if he knows this is going to be a big mistake.

"Pretty. So pretty."

Castiel's hand feels like puppet strings have been cut and he takes the phone out of his coat, staring at his reflection in the black screen. The keypad has fingertip smudges from when he keyed in the password weeks ago before he never touched it again.

"Yes, it is," Castiel says half-heartedly, pressing the power button so the wallpaper Dean had set before handing the phone over showed instead of the blank black screen. The wallpaper was a grainy photo Dean had apparently taken during Christmas. Castiel was watching the television intently. Castiel hadn't bothered to change it; He actually quite liked the photo. For a few moments, he could pretend he was like any ordinary human, simply catching up on television.

Then again, humans don't frequently say 'television', do they? They say TV. They do not say 'frequently' either.

"It's Tuesday."

"In 1953," Castiel says, entering the passcode and entering the contacts. It took him a while to figure out which icon was for which application, but he soon got the hang of it. There are three contacts; Sam, Dean, and Jess. His thumb hovers over 'Dean Winchester' with hesitation and deep yellow caution.

The phone goes back into the pocket and Castiel doesn't touch it again.

**February 8, 2003**

Different angels have different duties tailored to their specific abilities (or what little traces of a personality some of them have). The Archangel Michael is a commander of the Heavenly Host, for example. Castiel is the angel of Thursday, and his duties mainly preside in the area of watching events unfold with little interference.

He doesn't recall if that's how he knew about Tuesday, 1953.

He has been tasked with watching a woman change her name as she runs from her past. Castiel has no idea why she is of any importance to Heaven, but there's a wall in his brain that stops him from questioning his orders too much. Although, since meeting Dean, the wall seems to have been picked off bit by bit, and he finds that it barely hangs by its bricks.

Her name is now Charlie Bradbury, a redhead tech expert with a deep love for science fiction franchises. Castiel is unfamiliar. She does not seem to know Dean, and thus Castiel has lost interest in finding out more. He watches silently, hidden behind the invisible barrier between mortals and celestials, as she takes a photo for her new identification card.

He always wondered why humans would ever want to change their identities. He did like his own, despite the burden that comes with being an angel of the Lord. He still liked himself.

At least, he thinks he does. The line tends to blur when he thinks about it for too long.

Charlie smiles wide and the camera's flash goes off. She busies herself with torn posters on filthy walls as the man prints her photo onto a plastic card. Once he's done, he taps her arm with the card, "On the house."

"Thanks, Sid," Charlie grins, putting her wallet back into her pocket. "You doing anything later? Maybe I could buy you lunch or something."

"Nah, don't worry about that," Sid says, waving dismissively as he puts the money into his own wallet. "Least I could do. You got my hacked pay logs back. I owed you one."

"This means so much. Thank you, really," Charlie says once again, looking at her new ID with admiration.

Sid asks, "But what do you need the new ID for? What happened?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," she says. It instantly registers as a lie, but it's none of Castiel's business. She takes the card, hugs Sid goodbye, and leaves the small run-down shop.

His work here is done, and he returns to Heaven.

**February 28, 2003**

  
Castiel lands in front of a house with a homely porch. It’s not a large house, but it does look well lived-in. He walks up to the door and knocks once before taking a step back and waiting for it to open.

The house belongs to Akobel, an angel from Castiel’s garrison that had long left Heaven to reside on Earth. As far as Castiel knows, he is the only angel aware of Akobel’s location. It’s not like Heaven cares much about runaway angels, anyway. They had plenty all around, and Akobel isn’t the first angel to run off, Castiel’s sure of it. Anael may have gone away of her own accord, though Castiel has no way of fact-checking.

It doesn’t take long for Akobel to answer, opening the door with a curious look on his face. “Castiel?”

“Akobel. It is good to see you,” Castiel greets, tone laced with an odd tinge of formality. Akobel is his friend, he knows he’s known him for thousands of years, but somehow he didn’t know how to act in front of him. Akobel steps aside to give him room to enter and he does, shoes echoing through thin floorboards. “This house looks... satisfactory.”

“Tell me how you really feel, huh, Castiel?” Akobel jokes.

Castiel’s brain snaps straight to _you have messed up_ and he instantly says, “My apologies, I did not intend to insult your home. I meant --“

“I know what you meant. I was kidding. Ease up,” Akobel says, patting Castiel’s shoulder twice as if offering comfort. It doesn’t have the desired effect, however, it only strikes a feeling of discomfort throughout Castiel’s being. _You have messed up._

“Do you live alone?” Castiel asks, deciding that changing conversational topics may be best.

Akobel answers, sitting on the couch and shifting to make space for Castiel, “I live with a human, Lily.”

“Does she know what you are?”

“Yes.”

“And she does not mind?”

“No,” Akobel smiles. “Isn’t that something?”

“Something indeed,” Castiel agrees mindlessly. His hands settle uncomfortably on his lap as he looks around. Framed photographs line up on the mantelpiece. Akobel and the human Lily smile back at him. The corners of Castiel’s lips tug up, unconsciously trying to mimic the expression, but it falls flat and he resigns his efforts. There are photographs of them everywhere -- Akobel has been using his angel wings. “You’ve been happy.”

“I am,” Akobel says, grinning. It looks so _easy_ on him. Castiel feels frustration towards the way it’s so difficult for him to do the same. "I love Lily, and life is so much better with her."

“I... I envy you, Akobel,” Castiel admits quietly. “That you can love so openly and freely with no fear of judgment.”

“You can stay on Earth, find someone you love of your own,” Akobel suggests, perking up slightly as he says it. “It will do you good, Castiel. Being here has been life-changing. I’ve learned things, felt things, that I never thought I could ever know and experience, and it is so rewarding. You won’t regret staying. Just imagine a peaceful life. No orders, no superiors, just the people you love and the things that make you happy. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“It does,” Castiel says, his voice choking on something dark blue and _melancholy is the word you’re looking for._

Akobel rests a hand on him like he knows why Castiel’s voice had risen just the slightest bit. Like he knows why Castiel looks away and casts his gaze to the ground. “Then stay.”

“They won’t let me,” Castiel barely whispers, pulling his eyes up to Akobel’s. It all sounded so nice, so peaceful. More so than his heaven, he dared to admit. It sounded like something Castiel truly wanted, something he’d been searching for his whole life that would complete him, fill the void in his being.

But just because he wants it doesn’t mean he can have it. Heaven may be a sanctuary, but it is no paradise.

Before Akobel can say anything else, Lily Sunders comes into the room and when Castiel’s eyes fall onto her body, he realizes.

“Akobel, she...” He stares, wide-eyed at Lily. “She bears a Nephilim.”

Akobel instantly begs. “Please don’t tell anyone. You know me. You know I’d raise him right, I wouldn’t let him do anything he shouldn’t. He won’t hurt anyone on my watch.”

Castiel does know Akobel, and he knows he is still a good angel despite the shell of a formerly obedient soldier decaying away by humanity.

“Okay,” Castiel relents. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” Akobel says. He turns halfway to look at Lily and introduces, “Lily, this is my friend Castiel. Castiel, this is my wife, Lily Sunders.”

 _Wife_.

Akobel is so gone.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Castiel says instead. He’s painfully aware of his programmed disdain hidden by a thin veil of politeness. Castiel doesn’t like who he is, at least not now. He doesn’t judge Akobel. He thinks it’s admirable, actually, his love for humans. Yet, he finds this thick green rising in the back of his throat and violent red behind his eyes.

Lily seems to catch on to it, the glimmer of dark orange tainting her soul in all the wrong places that send out alarms in Castiel’s brain. She doesn’t say anything in regards to that, however. She only says, “And I, you.”

Her soul is nothing like Dean’s. Her’s is a harsh blend of brown, dark green and black. It’s dark and dull where Dean’s is bright and fluorescent. Castiel doesn’t exactly know what made Akobel leave Heaven for her but to each their own.

"I think I should go."

"Oh, that's too bad," Lily says. Castiel knows she doesn’t like him. He doesn’t know how to fix that, because Akobel is his friend and he wanted to get along with his wife, but he keeps messing up. “Will you come again soon?”

“I don’t think so,” Castiel answers. He hopes that that at least puts her at ease. It seems to do the trick enough, her greens fading to olive. _Peace?_

Akobel seems disappointed at him leaving so soon and Castiel wants nothing more than to stay, get to know the new him, know just how he got the courage to be who he is. But Lily’s soul makes him feel levels of dark grey remorse and he doesn’t think he can bear to stay a minute longer than he has to.

**March 9, 2003**

_Dear Sam,_

_That sounds awesome. I’m glad you had fun at that party. If you ever need hangover cures, tell me. I’ll write some to you next time whenever you go to a party again. About time you went to one, nerd. You always wanted to get out there._

_Does that teacher never rest? Listen, if he’s still giving you trouble, let me know and I can come rough him up for you. Give him a little taste of that Winchester hospitality. No biggie._

_Also, give my congrats to Jess. That win doesn’t sound easy. You’ve gotta send me pictures of her paintings. If they look anything like her, then they’re gonna be pretty beautiful. Haha, just kidding bro._

_Anyway, Dad came back a couple of days ago, said he’s got a lead on whatever killed Mom. I have a feeling he’s gonna take off again soon, but we’re on a shapeshifter case right now so I think it’ll be a while before that happens. Dad’s pretty mad at me. I didn’t screw up this case, so I’ve got no idea what for, but I just get the feeling. Maybe he’ll talk to me about it, I don’t know._

_Yeah, I'll be careful. You know I always am._

_No, I haven’t seen Cas in a while. He said he’s got “prior attachments”, so I guess he’s off doing whatever the hell he does in his free time. Yeah, I did give him the phone. He hasn’t called or texted. Part of me thinks he doesn’t even know how to unlock the phone. I even gave him the password written on a little note for him. ‘Password’. Easiest damn password on Earth._

_Alright, I’ve gotta go. Write back soon._

_Dean_

**March 14, 2003**

The third prayer comes from a small diner in Kansas City, Missouri.

Dean Winchester has a plate of half-eaten pancakes, melted butter and dripping maple syrup leaking off the edges and two cups of coffee that have now reached room temperature. Castiel stops right outside the diner in the parking lot. Dean is alone at the booth, but there's a bag on the opposite side of it that suggests he has company.

 _Hey. This is Dean Winchester... again._ Castiel watches as Dean murmurs quietly against clasped hands. _Dad said he found a lead on what killed my mom. I guess I'm just praying for a little guidance? Let me know if I'm on the right path and all that. I want to know, I... I want to end whatever burned my mother, but I also want to know if this is a good decision. Sammy wrote that our workload these days seems to be getting more dangerous, and I can't say I disagree._

Castiel walks into the diner, the delicate tinkle of the small golden bells above his head putting him slightly more at ease. His heart knocks against his ribcage when he sees that there's black at Dean's center which sticks out like a sore thumb but it still seems to look stunning with his greens and blues.

Castiel catches his thoughts before they can go any further. He stops at the entrance, glancing briefly over at Dean. He hasn't noticed him yet. His eyes are closed in quiet prayer.

_Take care of Dad. I know how much he loved my mom, so I know how far he's willing to go to catch this thing. He'll die trying and I'm not ready to let that happen. I'm just asking for a sign if this is something I'll regret doing. You know, if this thing is better off staying a mystery. Thanks. I'll owe you._

He looks up then, just as Castiel looks away. "Cas?"

Castiel's attention snaps straight to Dean and his feet propel him forwards to his booth. "Hello, Dean."

"What are you doing here?" Dean asks, his soul lighting up with the beautiful shade of yellow that Castiel adores. He always knows that that yellow means Dean's happy to see him. He must not be having a good day then if Castiel is the highlight of it.

"Just passing through," Castiel says. Like clockwork. It reminds him of how he'd respond to the man in his heaven the same way most days.

"You know what, at least you didn't pass through when I'm getting my ass handed to me," Dean jokes, shifting inwards so Castiel can sit by him in the booth. As he sits, Dean adds, "I was praying though, all the times you appeared. What are you, my guardian angel or something?"

Castiel freezes up, something like ice catching in his throat, and Dean laughs, patting his shoulder twice in good humor, "Kidding. Angels aren't real."

_He doesn't know._

"You aren't religious," Castiel observes, but it comes out sounding like a question.

"Nope," Dean says, taking a bite of his pancakes. "You?"

"Yes," Castiel says. It's not like he has a say in the matter anyway. He's literally an entity from the bible.

Dean nods slowly, eyeing Castiel. "Oh. Sorry about that. Don't know if you're touchy on that sort of thing."

"I'm not," Castiel says. It pricks at him a little that he is living proof that he should have faith, but it's also his fault that Dean doesn't know. He had no place to be irritated.

"Okay," Dean says. "You wanna get anything to eat? If you came in here, I'd think it's 'cause you're hungry."

"I had lunch already," Castiel lies. "I just saw you in here and came to say hello."

"Hello," Dean grins. Just then, a man walks to the table, sitting heavily across from them. His soul is ugly compared to Dean's; It is black with edges of dark orange and grey. "Hey, Dad."

_John Winchester, Dean's father._

"Who's this?"

"This is Castiel. He's a hunter," Dean introduces. "He helped me with the vamp nest last year."

"Sure don't dress like one," John mutters. "Name's John Winchester." John holds out a hand to Castiel. Castiel stares at it blankly, unsure of what to do.

Dean looks between them and offers, "You could shake it, you know."

Castiel grabs onto John's hand, awkwardly shaking it once, firmly, before letting go. John fixes him with a gaze of murky yellow caution.

"What's your name? Castiel what?" John asks. It seems like he's trying to converse, but Castiel can't figure out where the words are going.

"No last name," Dean answers for him. "It's just Cas."

"Everyone has a last name. No one man's got no family," John points out. "What is it?"

It's coming to Castiel now, that John may try to dig up information about him later. Now in his son's associates, he must be wary of him. Castiel tries to come up with an answer and then remembers he wears the body of Jimmy Novak.

"Novak," he says. "Castiel... Novak." It has a ring to it, of sorts.

Dean raises his eyebrows, "You told me you didn't have one."

"Maybe you didn't ask him enough," John says.

Castiel voices out, in an attempt to play up Dean's efforts, "He did. I just don't much like my name." It's not his own name, to begin with, but _my apologies, Jimmy_. _I do like your name._

"Right," John says, unconvinced. "You in town long? On a case?"

"No, just visiting," Castiel answers. When no further elaboration comes, John sips at his coffee loudly. It can't taste very good with the temperature.

"Cas, can I talk to you outside?"

Dean and he leave the diner to talk in the parking lot. Dean leans against the boot of the Impala and Castiel leans uncomfortably on the door. He decides to just stand normally.

Dean starts, "Where were you?"

"Working," Castiel answers. 

"You went radio silent for three months. Dude, I thought you died on a hunt or something," Dean says. "Hey, if you're in trouble, you know I'll be glad to help. Sam too."

"I know," Castiel replies. It's reassuring to an extent, and it gives him hope that perhaps Dean won't lump him in with the other dangerous supernatural creatures that he'd love to run into the ground. He is, however, more dangerous and powerful than anything Dean has ever faced. He could take Dean down without even blinking.

It's simply the idea that Dean would want to destroy him that cracks at his hard exterior.

"So? What work?" Dean prods.

"I can't tell you. I wish I could, but I am not allowed," Castiel says. He hopes Dean will understand.

If he doesn't, he doesn't show it. He just shrugs and glances away. "Okay, well. Don't flake out like that. Demons running around and all that, you never know what'll happen."

Castiel has half a mind to say that demons are like ants under his shoes, but he doesn't. Dean has no need to know.

"Good to see you again, buddy," Dean finally smiles.

Everything is fine the way it is. Castiel doesn't need to tell him anything. He's not going to jeopardise the only good thing he has going for him.


	4. 2 Corinthians 5:17

_For there are those who pray for you... and those who prey on you. And no matter how careful you are, sometimes you just can’t tell the difference._   
**John Constantine**

**March 30, 2003**

Castiel lands somewhere in Nevada, outside a nightclub that looks like it would be failed by an inspector. Dean is inside, but he doesn't know if he should go in and see him. The last time he'd seen Dean, he'd been the perfect example of a terrible first impression with John Winchester. After talking to Dean in the parking lot, Castiel decided to leave. He didn't feel comfortable staying there, the same way he felt with Lily Sunders, so he told Dean he would call him and that hopefully, they will cross paths soon.

He has failed to call Dean yet again.

He watches as a man and woman stumble out of the nightclub, arms clinging onto the other. Lipstick stains the man's cheeks and the woman's dress strap slides down her shoulder. They laugh in drunken giddiness, mumbling words so dirty that Castiel considers it a sin to repeat them. The woman glances up at him and winks, giggling and dragging the man to what Castiel only assumes is their car. He decides to just go in.

Yes, he's not supposed to be here, but Dean is there and that's reason enough.

The moment he walks through the doors, he's hit with the memory of doing this with Dean before. He'd somewhat 'freaked out' about it and Dean took him back to his motel instead. Castiel finds it a little easier to make his way through the bar this time, though Dean being at the other end of it may be why. At least he had something to get to, convince himself that it is no sin that he is there. He has a purpose. He's just looking for Dean.

He looks over the heads of barflies, eyes desperately dodging skimpy outfits. Finally, he spots Dean at the bar, talking to the bartender. He throws back his head in laughter, leans forward to add to whatever joke was passed between them. The bartender chuckles as he cleans the shot glass in his hand. Dean says something and the bartender pours him another glass. His soul is so beautiful, Castiel's pace slows to watch the way it moves with joy.

He slides into the empty seat on Dean's left. His throat is dry.

Dean glows a warm yellow and the blues of his soul seem saturated as he turns to face Castiel. "Cas, I didn't see you there. We've gotta stop meeting like this."

"Like what?" Castiel asks as Dean calls for a shot for him. He tries to stop him but is too late.

"You know like we always do. I'm in some shit and you show up because you're 'just passing by'," Dean answers.

Castiel frowns, just as the bartender puts his shot glass down in front of him. "What 'shit' are you in?"

Dean shrugs half-heartedly. "Dad's gone off on his own again. Same old, same old." He nods towards Castiel's shot glass, "It's on me. Drink up."

Castiel stares at it a little hesitantly at the cheap alcohol but decides it can't be that bad if Dean downs them like it's nothing. He raises it to his lips and lets the liquid burn on the way down. He cringes at the bitter taste, but it's probably the most alive he's felt since first seeing Dean's soul. Dean laughs at Castiel's expression, "Hey now, the drink ain't that bad."

"I'm not used to the taste," Castiel says. He has tried alcohol before, a few of the times he has visited Earth. His first drink was in 1869, in Italy. He'd spent the evening with a single mother who found out she wasn't going to live very long. She'd gone on a depressing rant in Italian, sounding off crude profanities while Castiel listened, sipping on the alcohol she had with her. It had already grown warm, so it wasn't the best possible quality. Still, it was probably not as bad as Dean's alcohol. At least her bottle was expensive and had time to age nicely.

He doesn't remember her name.

"Give it time. It'll grow on you," Dean says, good-natured. "So, what's got you passing by this time?"

"Boredom," Castiel answers. It's true, anyway. He had no duties and couldn't stop thinking about Dean. "My apologies. I haven't called you. It must have slipped my mind."

It hasn't. He just didn't have the courage to. He didn't want to know what it meant if he dived right into this relationship he has with Dean. It's foreign and what's unknown is always terrifying.

"Don't worry about it. Hasn't been that long since I last saw you," Dean says. "What's up with you?"

"I visited my brother a while ago," Castiel says, memories of Akobel and Lily Sunders flooding his mind's eye. The ugly, dark black of her soul when he'd spoken in the wrong tone. "And his wife."

"Oh, yeah? How was that?"

"She didn't like me very much," Castiel says, faint blue shades of dejection making themselves clear in his voice. "I... I may have rubbed her the wrong way."

Dean pouts in thought. "You couldn't have been that bad."

"I said something and she wasn't happy with me," Castiel frets.

"What'd you say?" Dean asks, turning in his stool to face Castiel.

"It was a pleasure to meet her."

"That doesn't sound bad," Dean mutters.

"It was the way I said it," Castiel clarifies. Before he realizes it, he's rambling. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I sounded disgusted but I was not. It was like I had no control over it. I want nothing more than to apologize. I just... I don't know why that happened."

Dean rests a grounding hand on his shoulder. He feels the indentation of the ring of his finger against his skin. "Come on, Cas. You know, things happen sometimes. Chances are, she's forgotten about it already." When Castiel doesn't respond, he adds, "Hey, if it makes you feel better, I think you're pretty great."

The words tumble out of his lips before he can stop them, "I like you."

 _I like you?_ _What does that even mean?_ Castiel can't even comprehend it. It sounded out of place yet right where it should be. He did like Dean, yes, but that wasn't what had been going through his mind when he said it. He'd been thinking about Dean's beautiful soul and his laughter like music, and the way yellow sparks with joy whenever he sees Castiel.

And the way Dean is so caring! No angel has treated him with the genuine concern Dean has. He even got him a phone so Castiel can call him if he ever needed his assistance. Castiel liked how Dean cared a lot about his brother and the way he cared about everyone else so much. It's detrimental to his self-preservation, but it's admirable how selfless he is. Two out of his three prayers that Castiel has intercepted had been asking for protection over someone else. Dean was worried when he realized Castiel "rarely" ate or slept.

Yes, Castiel liked Dean. He isn't exactly sure in what way he meant.

Dean smiles, just a little lopsided. "Well, don't get all soft on me now, Cas. But I like you too."

Now, what does _that_ one mean? Castiel hasn't even fully understood his own rendition of the statement to even start on Dean's. He must look caught off-guard because Dean chuckles and says, "Don't look so surprised."

"My apologies," Castiel quickly says, brain processing Dean's words as an order, a scolding. He knows it isn't, but he can't help instincts. His face steels up instantly.

" _Sorry_ ," Dean says. "Nobody says 'my apologies' anymore. Way too fancy."

"I'm sorry," Castiel says, trying out the phrase. In Heaven, the angels had a general air of formality, and 'my apologies' was the more widely used term rather than 'I'm sorry'. "I'm sorry."

Dean's smile drops a little at the corner, "Never heard of 'sorry' before?"

"We don't use that back in..." Castiel trails off, remembering that Dean doesn't know his true background. "Back in Illinois. At home." He mentally apologizes to Jimmy Novak for first stealing his last name and now hometown.

"Is your dad strict?"

"I wouldn't know. I've never met him," Castiel says, hands wrapping around the small shot glass. His hands are too big for it, but it's something to occupy himself with.

Dean smacks a hand against his forehead, "Shit, yeah. You told me that. Sorry."

"Don't apologize."

"I'll stop if you do," Dean says. "You say sorry way too much, man."

Castiel avoids talking about it because he doesn't feel like getting into an analogy for the military-like upbringing he has had since his creation at God's hands. He changes topics back to his compulsion to say sorry. "I'm sorry."

"Well, at least it's not 'my apologies' anymore," Dean says. "But we've gotta work on you saying that less. You didn't do anything wrong."

 _Sitting in here already warrants punishment_ , Castiel almost says. He decides to flip the conversation towards Sam and his schoolwork. Apologies are quickly forgotten as Dean gets lost in ramblings about Sam and Jess, and Castiel is perfectly fine with it.

* * *

"Hey, you're still here. That a miracle or what?" Dean says as he rolls in his bed to look at Castiel in the opposite one. Castiel had agreed to stay the night and he'd etched angel warding onto the windowsill while Dean was taking a shower the night before.

"I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye," Castiel assures. Dean sits up and runs a hand through his hair. It sticks up where it shouldn't, and he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He smiles, lazy and warm, and Castiel's heart stops for a moment. His soul reflects the cracks of the sunlight that come through between the curtains, and it glows in such a stunning way that he has to pause to catch his breath.

Dean frowns, "You good?"

"Yes," Castiel says, breaking his gaze away to a spot on the floor. Dean nods, too groggy to notice if anything is wrong.

"Did you get any sleep this time?" Dean asks, changing into formal wear.

"Yes," Castiel lies. He doesn't say much more; He isn't sure what to talk about. His hands hang uselessly at his sides as he watches Dean retreat into the bathroom to wash up. When he comes back out, he grabs his laptop and moves to the small wooden desk. "What are you doing?"

"Yesterday, I took down a werewolf, so now I'm looking for a new case," Dean explains. Castiel waits patiently until Dean makes a triumphant noise. "Here's one. Ohio. I think it's a vengeful ghost, but we should go down and check."

Castiel tilts his head in question. "We?"

Dean pauses and looks up at Castiel. "You _are_ coming with, right?"

"Of course, Dean," Castiel says. He can't say no to that beautiful soul.

"Awesome. At least this time, you're gonna be here for the investigating and not just the fighting," Dean teases, closing the laptop and shoving it into his bag. Castiel wishes he shared his confidence. The angels might come and find him. It's not like he can carve angel warding on the interior of Dean's car or engrave them on his body; He can't do either without Dean finding out. Then he'd have to explain why he can do the things he can do, and then Dean will kill him, violent and slow, and he will realize that he has always hated Castiel --

"Hey, you okay, Cas?" Dean's voice cuts through his thoughts and Castiel's gaze snaps over towards him. "You kinda went to space there."

Castiel nods, a little too jumpy for his liking. "Yes, I'm fine. Shall we go?"

Dean mirrors his nod, asking, "You have your FBI badge with you?" At Castiel's silence, Dean's eyes widen, "You don't have one?"

"No."

"Then how do you get information for your case?" Dean questions, already reaching into his bag for a spare FBI ID.

Castiel lies, "Bribery."

"Hm. A little wasteful, but I like your style," Dean comments. He reaches over to take Castiel's coat off of him and drops it onto his bed. "Okay, stand against that white wall. I'll take your photo and this will be your ID. It's my dad's, he left it here, but who cares?"

 _You do_ , Castiel thinks. _Or you wouldn't have mentioned it was John Winchester's_. He doesn't say it out loud, only obeying and standing against the wall for Dean to take his picture.

"Don't smile," Dean says. He pauses for a moment before grinning. "You wouldn't have a problem with that. You never do." The flash goes off and Castiel blinks in surprise. Dean walks back to the desk to work on the card and Castiel pulls his coat back on. The coat was Jimmy Novak's and he'd been wearing it when he accepted Castiel into his body. Though, Castiel has had opportunities, one after another, to take it off. He never did; It felt almost like a constant reminder that Jimmy Novak gave himself up for Castiel to run his heavenly duties. The vessel, that coat, it meant something to Castiel. He felt a little more human with it, somehow.

"Here you go," Dean eventually says, handing the ID to him. "All done, Special Agent Bonham."

* * *

Dean and Castiel roll up in front of the police station in the Impala. After realizing that Castiel had no idea who John Bonham was, he'd proceeded to play some of Led Zeppelin's discography that displayed his talents as the drummer on the drive. Castiel actually likes the music just as much as the first time Dean had played the music for him. He remembers wanting to get deeper into it, but never found the time to do so.

Dean walks up to the captain and flips open his FBI badge, saying, "I'm Special Agent Plant and this is Special Agent Bonham. We have a few questions about the murder of George Way." He glances over at Castiel and looks pointedly at his coat. Castiel catches on, pulling out the badge and letting it fall open as he holds it up. Dean reaches out and flips it the right side up. "He's new," he explains. The captain nods awkwardly but lets them follow him into his office.

"Can I call your superiors, check if you're legitimate?" the captain asks. "I wouldn't think the FBI would be interested in a case like this."

"Of course," Dean says, writing a phone number on the slip of paper the captain passes him.

Castiel watches quietly as the captain rings up the number, his neutral expression melting into something a little more black with disdain. Castiel feels a sense of bright red alarm, and he sees greys of confusion seeping into Dean. Dean quickly says, "It's alright, we'll ask one of your subordinates if you're busy."

* * *

Castiel and Dean end up in a holding cell.

Dean leans his head against the concrete wall, sighing, while Castiel stands near the small window, peering out. Dean says, "I guess Bobby changed the number and forgot to tell me."

"It's alright."

"Sorry about this."

"You do need to stop apologizing," Castiel says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Dean returns his smile, but it drops. Castiel wishes that he could properly see his face past his soul. Yes, his soul is the most beautiful thing Castiel has ever laid his eyes on in all his years of living but is it too much to ask to be able to see Dean as he is?

Dean runs a hand over his face, letting it linger over his mouth before it falls to his lap. "Well, I didn't check the number so I screwed up again. We would've been finding that spirit by now if I checked."

"It's not your fault, Dean," Castiel says. "As you said, sometimes things happen."

Dean shrugs half-heartedly, "I guess." He kicks absently at a crumpled piece of paper on the floor before saying, "Hey, since we've got time before Sam gets here, do you wanna talk a little bit more about your family?" After a pause, he explains, "Sam said talking things out can make you feel better. Maybe you wanna try it?"

Castiel decides there's no harm in talking. He trusts Dean, and knowing that it's a mutual feeling has warmth spreading in his chest. "I don't suppose we're a family much more than we were like soldiers... I don't have a mother and I've never met Father. I only had my siblings, but we aren't all close. The few I knew well, I've fallen out of contact with." Anael and Balthazar, specifically. Though Inias and he were also on pretty good terms, there's still an air of foreign feeling between them. "We weren't allowed to do a lot of things. My Father had a strict set of rules he gave to four of my brothers before he left."

"What rules?" Dean asks.

"Emotions... impair judgment," Castiel says. "We weren't allowed to show any."

Dean's face twists into a frown, "Wait, seriously?"

"I've never felt much of anything," Castiel admits with a hint of shame. "If I had a job, I did it. I wouldn't question orders."

"That's not living," Dean mutters, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees.

"No, it isn't," Castiel agrees, eyes dropping to a spot on the floor.

Dean says, "I know how you feel. My dad's the same as me. I know he's got good intentions for his orders and rules. But yours sounds like it's way past the line of being reasonable. Dude, you don't deserve that. That's no life."

"It's all I have," Castiel points out weakly. He can't argue Dean's point -- he hated the way he lived. Dean's right, it's barely even living. He's surviving, and he's come to know that living and surviving are two very different things. But despite hating it, all Castiel has to his name are his angelic duties and his uncontested faith in God. Unreasonable rules included.

"Nope. You got me," Dean insists. "Forget the rules, Cas. You make your own."

 _I make my own_ , Castiel mouths to himself, trying out the command for the first time. His gaze stops at the lock of the holding cell and something comes over him. He walks closer to it and grabs the lock, twisting and breaking it. The door swings open and Dean stands, eyes widening in surprise.

"Shit! How'd you do that?" Dean asks, staring at the broken lock on the floor.

Castiel lies just as the alarm goes off, "I found shrapnel stuck in the window. We should go."

Dean grins and follows Castiel out of the holding cell. An officer spots them and starts walking towards them, but when Dean is distracted checking if they're being followed from behind, Castiel uses his telekinesis to swing a door into the officer's face. Dean turns back just in time to see the door collide with the man and he laughs as he falls to the ground.

Castiel loves that laugh. His own chuckle feels strange and yet he wants to keep feeling like this. Bright pink explodes in his chest. If he were human, it would be classified as _Dean is the most perfect thing I have ever seen and I am so lucky that I am with him and the way I feel with him is truly incomparable._

They continue walking through the precinct. Eventually, he decides to let all hell loose, making the fire sprinklers go crazy as it shoots water all over. Papers begin flying everywhere and chairs keep rolling all around. Dean grabs Castiel's wrist out of impulse and starts heading for the door to leave. Castiel feels warm where Dean's fingers meet his skin and it's like Dean's shooting sunshine into his veins. This feeling of pure joy beats any power trip he gets out of his grace.

They burst through the doors of the precinct, officers shouting above the mayhem. Castiel uses his powers to shut the doors behind them, locking them.

Dean laughs loudly, releasing Castiel's wrist to throw his arm around his shoulders instead, pulling him close as they start heading towards the car. Castiel is smiling; It hurts his cheeks, but he thinks that's supposed to be a good thing.

"That was awesome!" Dean grins. " _That's_ living."

 _So_ , Castiel thinks. _This is what living feels like_.

"Hey, look at that. My _devastatingly handsome_ friend is smiling," Dean jokes, his fingers grazing Castiel's cheek where it hangs over his left shoulder. "Why your dad never wanted you to show that off, I'll never know." Castiel's grin somehow grows wider. Maybe there's a fire in his cheeks at Dean's touch, but it burns so nicely. A kind of fire that doesn't hurt.

"Castiel."

The phrase 'all good things must come to an end' is suddenly painfully clear in Castiel's mind. Dean frowns and looks behind them, asking, "Who's that?"

"Zachariah," Castiel says defeatedly, already feeling the happiness slipping off his face. "My brother."

"Is this the one with the --"

"No," Castiel quickly says. None of the other angels were aware of Akobel's situation with Lily, and he's not eager to be what humans call a snitch. "I'm sorry, I need to have a word with him."

Dean nods understandingly, "Oh, yeah, go ahead. I need to tell Sam he doesn't need to come down anymore. I'll be over there if you need me." Dean walks off back to the Impala, taking out his phone to call Sam.

Castiel watches him go, the way he smiles, free and easy when Sam picks up the phone. He pulls his gaze away and onto Zachariah. "What do you want?"

"Heaven needs you back," Zachariah says. "Time to go home, Castiel."

Castiel doesn't even get the chance to say goodbye to Dean. Of all the lies Castiel has told Dean since first meeting him, "I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye" hurts the most. It was the one thing he said that he wanted to stay true.

**April 8, 2003**

_Dear Sam,_

_Big breakfasts and sleep. Lots of it. Water helps with hangovers too. Painkillers don't do much for me, but you're welcome to try. Drink that water while you're drinking. I think it helps. I've never tried._

_He said that? Okay, yeah. I'm gonna kick that teacher's ass to next Thursday. Say the word and I'll drive right onto campus._

_That painting looks awesome! She really does have a talent. How did she ever get stuck with someone like you? She's way out of your league._

_Dad left again. We should probably just stop talking about him. I'm wasting ink to write the same things about him every time and I'm getting tired of it._

_Speaking of Dad, Cas met him a while back. We were at this diner and he just walked right in, said he was passing by again. He and dad didn't exactly hit it off, but maybe they'll get a chance to work on that another time. Dad was being an ass, anyway. Asking for his last name when Cas didn't want to tell him. But he said it was Novak._

_Cas was with me a couple of days ago too. He was gonna work this vengeful spirit case with me, but then one of his brothers showed up and he disappeared. Not our kind of disappeared, like they went off to talk and he just never came back again. I have a feeling it's not anything good because Cas doesn't leave without saying bye. I sent him some texts, left him a voicemail. Hopefully, he'll hit me back. I'll keep you posted. But if he calls you, you tell me, okay?_

_I don't know. We don't meet a lot but the guy's growing on me. He's like a nerdy little dude. He's a lot like us when I think about it. Like a soldier. He might be my best friend. Sorry that Cas is cooler than you, bro._

_The case went well, either way. When he was here, it has to be the hardest I've laughed in a while. Even Cas couldn't stop smiling. We went to the police as FBI to investigate but Bobby didn't pick up the fake FBI phone so they arrested us. Then Cas did something and busted us out of the holding cell. It was complete chaos. So fun, I wish you were there to see it. Maybe if you come on to a case with us, we can get arrested so Cas will have to do it._

_Anyway, let me know when you're free. I really want to come to see you and Jess again. Maybe Cas will have come back by then and we can have a little reunion._

_Dean_

**April 10, 2003**

Castiel freezes up as if the white of the hallways are biting snow. It may be a sad kind of irony that Heaven strikes fear into his heart when it once offered solace. Some angels pass by him, cold and judgmental, as Ishim leads him down to the door that's familiar and not at all.

"You know why we're doing this, right?" Ishim asks, his voice the only sound in the hallway other than the click of their heels across pristine linoleum flooring. "Castiel."

"Yes," he says, voice thick with the ugliest shade of purple fear Castiel can think of.

"Why?"

"I... I've gotten too close to the humans in my charge," Castiel answers quietly. Hot maroon shame rises in his neck to the tips of his ears. His hands fiddle with the edges of his pockets, finger grazing the top of Dean's phone. He shoves his hand in to hold onto it, shutting his eyes in silent prayer.

Why does he even bother? It's not like anyone will answer.

" _Human_ ," Ishim corrects, voice grating against Castiel's skull. "Dean Winchester."

"This is unnecessary," Castiel says. "I will stop visiting Earth if that's what you wish for me to do."

Ishim presses his lips together in condescending thoughtfulness as he replies, "You see, Castiel. If that ever worked for you, we wouldn't be here right now." He pushes open the door and a blonde woman with blue eyes emptier with more solitude than the ocean looks up at him. Her smile is chilling. It feels like he's been here before.

"Welcome, Castiel. Have a seat," she says. "My name is Naomi."

Castiel turns back to Ishim who shuts the door behind them, "What do you mean 'if that ever worked for me'?"

"Do you really think this is the first time you have been here?" Ishim mocks. Castiel can hear the disappointment dripping from his words. "The first time, you might remember. September 1298. We told you before to stop going to Earth but you failed to obey."

Naomi smiles, slow and pitiful. "Castiel, September 1298, June 1587, January 1972, November 1983 and December 1993. You don't remember them because I have saved you."

"Saved me?"

"From falling!" Naomi says. "All those times, you have strayed and I have led you back onto the righteous path. I brought you home _every_ time, Castiel. But it took five failures to realize that you need a leash if you don't want a stray."

Horror clutches tightly around his lungs as Naomi takes a step closer to him because now he remembers. Now he remembers that he has indeed been here before, and he has read from that Bible on her desk before, and he has seen these windows before. He has seen her face before and has seen Ishim's ugly smile across the room before.

He has been here before.

"You don't have to do this," he says, desperation beginning to claw its way up from the pits of his being. "Naomi."

"But I do, Castiel," Naomi placates. "If it will make you feel better, our Father will be very happy with you. We do this because we want you to be the very best version of yourself. Don't you want to be perfect?"

"No," Castiel answers. "I don't."

Naomi pauses, confused by the answer, but she takes it in stride and continues, "Doesn't matter if you want to be. You have to. You are a servant of _God_ , Castiel! You have had the honor of serving him directly! Does that not bring you pride? Don't you want to be good at that?"

Castiel is proud. He's proud that God created him with his very hands, and he's proud that he gets to be an angel of the Lord. But he didn't want to be perfect. He'd tried for so long to be the perfect soldier, and he has been here five times before. Perfect obviously doesn't mix with him, and he liked it that way. If imperfect meant that he could laugh as Dean ran out of the precinct, hand on his wrist, then he wants to be imperfect. And he will be proud of that, just as much as he is proud of serving God.

"You are confusing my pride with perfection," Castiel mumbles. "Yes, I am proud. I don't want to be perfect."

Naomi grits her teeth in frustration and says, "You leave me no choice, Castiel. This is for your own good."

Castiel suddenly finds that he can no longer move. He pushes against invisible forces, trying to get out of the chair, but fails. "What are you doing?"

"Tell me, what's 2 Corinthians 5:17?" Naomi asks. Castiel hears Ishim leave the office.

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come," Castiel recites, hesitant. "The old has gone, the new is here."

"Yes, exactly," Naomi smiles. There is an edge to it like she has long grown tired of him. "I am going to make you all new. The old you kept failing us and I have run out of patience. I will recreate you in God's flawless vision, and you will be a perfect servant of Heaven again. A new you. A better you.”

Castiel starts trying harder to break free, desperately jerking his arms to push himself off. He stares up at her, eyes widening with terror. "Naomi, please don't. Please." _Fear, fear, fear, what you are feeling is pure fear, and it is the last thing you will feel_ \--

"If it is any consolation," Naomi says. "You won't remember this."

* * *

Castiel finds himself in his heaven. He hears birds quietly chirping overhead and feels the breeze touch his skin with a gentle cold touch through the spaces between his buttons.

"Pretty. So pretty."

Castiel doesn't reply, only staring out into the lake. Ishim appears behind him, walking up to stand next to him. "How are you feeling, Castiel?"

"Fine," he answers.

Ishim nods, looking at the lake as well. After a moment, he asks, "Do you know who Dean Winchester is?" Castiel turns to look at Ishim, sees the look of imploration on his face.

"No," Castiel replies.

"It's Tuesday," the man smiles.

Castiel flies away.


	5. Soulless Creatures

_A face devoid of love or grace,_  
_a hateful, hard, successful face,_  
_a face with which a stone would feel_  
_as thoroughly at ease:_  
_As were they old acquaintances._  
**Emily Dickinson**

**September 13, 2005**

It’s the second time Castiel has ever visited Earth since claiming his vessel, Jimmy Novak. It's not a big planet, not in comparison to Jupiter and even less in the bigger picture of the universe. It is different, though -- it breathes life unlike those on other planets. They are far less evolved, far less worth his time. God worked on them tirelessly, "perfecting" what he named humanity, but it seems like they were not worth the effort. Castiel has watched it his whole life, part of his duties, and they always find new ways to prove they are nothing but a disappointment.

They never knew how to back down from a fight and they continue to destroy one another in such petty ways that Castiel can't believe they even existed. They spent their time arguing and challenging in futile efforts to prove they are superior in the most minuscule of areas. They were hypocrites and liars, and they never knew when to stop or when to start. It's like God stopped midway through their creation and decided that they would finish on their own. Maybe he did, and he would come back to complete them one day.

He's still not in Heaven, so Castiel doesn't know why he even thinks he'll come back for these hairless apes. They blame him (more commonly Lucifer, but humans tend to shout 'Jesus Christ' and 'Oh God' when something goes horribly wrong) for things they did. If Castiel was God, he'd probably want to stay away too.

However, his duties call him to Stanford, California, so he goes. He's supposed to witness the return of Samuel Winchester into the supernatural business alongside his brother, Dean Winchester. He recalled Dean's name from when Ishim asked him if he knew who the human was. Castiel didn't know him then and he does not know him now, so hopefully, this visit will offer some insight.

The one known as Dean marches up to the door, knocks on it with a heavy hand. His soul is a dampened tone of green and blue, smudged together in the same way the tide pulls on the sand at the shore. It looks defeated, almost. He lands a few feet away, remaining invisible as he watches silently. Jessica Moore answers the door, soul igniting with bright yellows as she greets him and invites him in. He enters and Castiel follows close behind.

Sam and Jessica's home is nice and organized. With how Jessica's hair is astray and her shirt is rumpled, Castiel assumes the upkeep of the home is Sam's doing. Photographs of them line the walls, but Castiel doesn't see any that could be Dean. Sam and Jessica's souls look similar, almost identical shades of purple and red intertwined with one another. Sam's has just a touch of blue, the thing that differentiates his soul from Jessica's. His green is just like Dean's, if only slightly dimmer in comparison.

"Sam, I need to talk to you alone," Dean says seriously. From there, Sam and Jessica exchange a few quiet words before Sam follows Dean into the kitchen.

"Is something wrong?" Sam asks once they're out of Jessica's earshot. "Is Dad okay?"

"Dad's been on a hunting trip," Dean says slowly. "And he hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam sobers up immediately, leaning against the counter as he folds his arms. "Maybe he just got held up or met another hunter. Have you asked --"

"Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Ash. Even Missouri. I called everyone and got zero, zip, nada. Nothing," Dean interrupts. "I need your help."

Sam tries, "Dean, I'm in my graduating year and I've got a girlfriend. I can't just get back into the family business."

Dean replies, "I really need your help, Sam. Please? Once we find Dad, I'll let you go. Won't bother you again." Castiel watches from his spot in the corner of the kitchen. Dean is chartreuse with worry and Castiel can't help but wonder if Sam will agree to go or not. He didn't know what exactly the monumental moment was supposed to be when he flew down, but he realizes this is it if Sam agrees to go or decides to stay. That'll be the one to set off the chain of future events. He just didn't know which choice was the better of the two.

"Bobby would be able to help you," Sam points out. "Or Missouri."

"You think I'd be here if I hadn't tried them already?" Dean counters. "I'm fresh outta options, Sam."

"What about --" Sam starts before he abruptly cuts himself off. "Never mind. I forgot, sorry."

"What about who?"

"Cas," Sam says quietly. "I forgot he's dead. Sorry."

 _Who's Cas?_ Castiel thinks to himself, eyes narrowing as he tilts his head in thought. _A family member? A close friend? Something more? Is he important to this?_

Dean stiffens up at that but he goes on, "Yeah, he's dead. So, I've got nobody else and I can't find him alone. Will you help me?"

Finally, Sam relents, nodding, "Yeah, okay, Dean. I'll come with you, but _just_ until we find Dad. No longer than that." Dean nods instantly, agreeing to his conditions, then they're making plans for tomorrow; Sam will pack up, let Jessica know that there's a family emergency, inform the school that he has to take some time off and then he'll leave with Dean the following day.

Once Dean leaves the house, Castiel follows him to his car where he sits in the driver's seat. Dean sighs deeply and pinches the bridge of his nose, going through his phone and calling someone. The phone in Castiel's pocket vibrates -- he didn't know where he got it from or who took the photograph of him that is the phone's wallpaper, but he assumed it may have belonged to Jimmy Novak. He didn't know Dean was familiar with his vessel.

He doesn't really know how to work the device, but he manages and picks up the call. He doesn't say anything, holding the phone up to his ear to see what Dean says.

"Wh-- Hey," Dean says, surprised. "Is that you?"

Castiel doesn't respond, just waiting for Dean to say more. He sees the way Dean's shoulders drop at the lack of reply, but he continues to talk anyway, "Okay, I'll just go on. Um, it's been two years, man. A part of me doesn't wanna believe that you're dead, but we haven't seen you. Not even when I prayed. I don't know, you always showed up when I pray, so I thought... Whatever." He pauses, closing his eyes for a moment as he leans into the car seat. "I miss you, man. I know we don't meet often, but we've got this _thing_ , you know? We're pretty awesome together. You're my best friend, actually, and it sucks that you're not around anymore. You saved my ass three times and I wish I was there to save yours, whatever happened."

He looks out the window and for a second, Castiel thinks he can see him even with his invisibility, but it's just Dean's eyes adjusting to the dark. "This blows. I don't like talking about it, it bums me out, but I really want you back. I need a win." He sniffs and Castiel sees him rub a hand down his face. "Okay. I'll cut the call off now before I get all sappy." He's quiet for a moment before he adds, "And if this is some random jackass who found the phone, it's not yours, okay? Put it back where you got it and piss off." He hangs up after that, and Castiel watches Dean rev up, driving away.

He hears the flapping of wings behind him before the quiet sound of feet landing on grass. "Like what you see?"

He greets, "Inias."

Inias says, "You've got new orders."

"What?" Castiel asks, turning to face Inias fully.

"You have to watch Dean Winchester," Inias says. "Zachariah told Ishim to give the task to whoever best suited it. He gave it to me, but I thought you would do a better job. Humanity's your thing, not mine. You always had this fascination with the petri dish."

"I do not," Castiel mutters.

Inias grins, "Sure you don't. And I'm the president of the United States of America."

"He is a liar, you may not be far off," Castiel says dryly, turning back to where Dean had formerly been. He has long gone off into the night and he can no longer see him.

Inias laughs, patting Castiel's back, "You do wound me, Castiel." They stand quietly for a while when Castiel doesn't reply, and Inias says, a little offhandedly, "You've changed."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, you used to be more... open?" Inias says, trying to pick the right words to use. "I mean, you're not all warm hugs and rainbows, but you're not exactly the ice king either. You never want to do anything anymore and you're always so stoic. You need to loosen up. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, as they say."

"I don't know who Jack is, but I am not him," Castiel says.

Inias asks, careful to tread on uncharted territory, "What happened with Naomi?"

Castiel's stare snaps to Inias, "Who?"

"I heard from Samandriel that you were sent to her office," Inias says. "Did something happen?"

"I have never been there. I don't know who Naomi is," Castiel answers.

"Okay," Inias says, unconvinced. Castiel tries not to let it get to him.

"Why do we have to watch Dean Winchester, anyway?" Castiel asks, changing the subject.

Inias shrugs, "They didn't tell me. Maybe if you ask Zachariah, he'll know. We should return to Heaven now."

**November 4, 2005**

Castiel sits at the opposite end of the diner, looking on quietly as Sam and Dean walk in with smiles on their faces. Their souls are bubbling with energy, so he can tell it's been a good day for them. He hears Dean bragging about being a better hunter and Castiel assumed they're here to celebrate a win.

"Don't get a big head about it, it's just a lucky shot," Sam grins, sliding into the other side of the booth. He waves the waitress over and orders a bowl of pasta while Dean asks for pie. While waiting for the food, they continue to talk and Castiel listens in from where he's sitting, facing away from them.

"Man, we took down a _demon_! Dad would be so proud," Dean says excitedly. "I hope we find him soon."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam says a little distractedly. "Dean, look at the guy in the last booth."

It quickly clicks in Castiel's mind that _he_ is the guy in the last booth. He can't just disappear. Well, he can, but it only invites questions that Castiel is too tired to answer. He hears the way Dean's breath catches in his throat as he looks over. Castiel tries to duck his head lower, keep his face out of sight, but he hears Dean say, "Sam, you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"Why do you think I told you to look over?" Sam whispers. "Dude, that's Cas, right?"

 _The Cas stood for Castiel_ , Castiel realizes, bewildered.

Dean replies, "No way. No, he's dead. He went radio silent. Why show up now if he was alive all this time? It's gotta be a shapeshifter or something."

Sam shrugs and it's quiet for a while -- Dean's pie just got served to their booth. Once the waitress is gone, Sam speaks, "Look, maybe it's the real Cas and he's here to explain where he's been. You never got confirmation that he died either, just that he never answered your texts. You should talk to him."

He hears shuffling and then Dean's walking up to him. Castiel looks up and connects eyes with Dean. His soul looks the same as he'd last seen it if only a little brighter. Dean asks, "Castiel, is that you?"

"Hello, Dean," Castiel replies, the first thing that came to mind.

"Hey, I didn't even have to pray for you to show up this time," Dean jokes. He stops for a second before glancing back to Sam, who has busied himself with his just-served pasta. He sits down across from Castiel and starts, "I was... I thought you died."

"I am very much alive," Castiel says simply.

Dean stares at him, something unreadable to him and shrouded in black and blue. "You were gone for two years. No phone call, nothing."

Castiel replies, "My apologies, Dean."

For some reason, that's what ignites the spark of dark orange in Dean's soul. He stands and says, "Come on, Sam would want to say hi." Castiel follows him reluctantly and sits across from Sam and Dean.

Dean pulls the pie over to his side of the booth as Sam starts, "Cas, it's really good to see you. I know we only met that one time but I like you, you know. We were worried about you."

"I am fine, as you can see," Castiel says. He looks out of the window then, into the darkness of the parking lot. He can see Dean's car from where he's sitting, the shiny surface reflecting the neon signboard of the diner. Sam and Dean exchange looks that Castiel doesn't even try to understand. Human emotions are too hard to get used to and it's so redundant.

Sam and Dean decide to engage in conversation about a television program that Dean had been catching up on, so Castiel tunes out. He listens instead to angels talking amongst one another. Somewhere in the mass of chatter, he hears Inias talking to Jophiel about some earthly festival Castiel doesn't care about.

"... do that, Cas?"

"My apologies, I wasn't listening," Castiel says. "What did you say?"

"Do you want to stay with us at our motel tonight?" Sam gives him a concerned look. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Castiel answers. "And I will."

"Great," Dean says, finishing up the last of his pie as Sam pushes his empty plate to the corner of the table so the waitress can collect it. "You and I are gonna have a talk, buddy."

Sam pays for the meal and then they're in Dean's Impala. Castiel gets into the backseat, Dean into driver and Sam in the passenger. Dean puts on some noisy rock music where the singer screams their throat raw in very unpleasant ways, talking to Sam about a case in Florida. At some point, Castiel can't stand the music ('music' is an overstatement) and he switches the radio channel to one that played classical music. Dean turns his frown onto the radio in grey confusion.

"Did you change the channel?" Dean asks.

Sam shakes his head, lifting his laptop slightly, "I was looking for a case. I didn't change it." Dean reaches over to the knob, trying to turn it back to the rock channel. He can't turn it. Sam glances up from his screen, saying, "Just change it back."

"I can't, it won't turn," Dean grits. He gives up and returns his hand to the steering wheel. Sam balances the laptop on his lap and tries to turn it back to no success.

"This car is so old," Sam complains. "You really need to get it fixed, or a new car."

"She's my baby. Hell no," Dean says. "Maybe it'll be fixed by tomorrow. Cas, you like classical?"

"I love it," Castiel answers.

Dean half-shrugs, "Okay. At least one of us likes it." He shoots a look at Sam before correcting, "Two of us, apparently."

Sam grins, saying insincerely, "Sorry, man. If it helps, you get used to it after a while." Sam's right because after a solid minute complaining about how classical music had no lyrics so he couldn't at least pretend to lip-sync to it, he started to move with the music. It's a level of endearing with how quickly Dean got used to the genre, and Dean even says Castiel is ahead of his time to appreciate music like this. Sam jokes that Dean only liked it so he could have something in common with Castiel and himself, and their friendly bickering is lost on Castiel when he drowns himself in the rise and fall of violin in Bach's Violin Concerto in A Minor.

It's not long until they're back at the motel. Sam leaves to get the single room across the hall so Dean and Castiel can have the doubles room to catch up in private. Once Sam moves his belongings to the new room, Dean shuts the door behind him and starts, "Two years. What happened to you?"

"I was caught up," Castiel says slowly, thinking of a lie that invited the least questions and could get him the most answers. "In a case."

"For two years? If it was that taxing, you could have just called us," Dean points out. "You had my number, you know I'd come to help you if you asked. We're _friends_ , Cas."

 _Had his number_... Castiel takes the phone out of his pocket. _So this was mine, not Jimmy Novak's._

Dean eyes the phone's perfect condition and says, "You picked up."

"I did..." Castiel trails off, frowning. When did Dean Winchester ever give him this phone? They have never officially met before today, but somehow Dean is not only his friend but has apparently known him from at least two years ago.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't know what to say," Castiel replies, still staring at the lock screen. Castiel hasn't used the phone at all in the past two years. Coupling that with his angelic abilities, it bodes well for the phone's battery life. It's on its last 10 percent.

Dean says, "Unlock it."

"I don't know how to," Castiel says, getting irritated. Dean takes the phone from Castiel's hands, keying it in.

"Your password is 'Password'," Dean says, handing the phone back to him. "Big 'P', small everything else."

"Uppercase and lowercase," Castiel mumbles the correction, watching the applications show up on the screen. There's a red bubble over a speech bubble icon and he selects it. A bunch of messages is displayed. There's one from Jessica Moore, a handful from Sam Winchester and a long string from Dean. Dean sighs when Castiel says that, telling him he'll leave him alone for a while as he goes to the next room to talk to Sam. Castiel goes through the three chats one by one.

 **[7 August 2003, 10:39 PM]**  
**Jessica Moore:** Hey, Cas. Jess here. Sam’s really worried about you. Maybe you can call him when you can? Thank you.

He exits that and goes to the one with Sam.

 **[13 August 2003, 1:17 PM]**  
**Sam Winchester:** Cas, can you call me back? Thanks.

 **[3 September 2003, 3:02 AM]**  
**Sam Winchester:** Tom and Jerry’s airing right now and I thought of you, haha  
**Sam Winchester:** Text me back when you can.

 **[16 September 2003, 1:17 AM]**  
**Sam Winchester:** You okay, man?

 **[27 September 2003, 8:24 AM]**  
**Sam Winchester:** Dean’s really worried. Can you call him back?

 **[12 October 2003, 6:19 PM]**  
**Sam Winchester:** I’m not the most pessimistic, but I’m going to assume the worst and say that you’re dead.  
**Sam Winchester:** I hope your phone’s the dead one and not you, but then you would have called us with a payphone or something by now, right?  
**Sam Winchester:** Dean’s gonna be crushed. He really liked you.

That’s the last text sent by Sam. He exits and enters his chat with Dean.

 **[10 April 2003, 8:22 PM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** That case was awesome, man. Wish you stuck around for the rest. But hey, family calls, we gotta answer. I get it.  
**Dean Winchester:** Anyway, I killed the son of a bitch. It was a vengeful spirit. Saved the kid.

 **[14 April 2003, 1:48 PM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Did you ever get the thing with your bro sorted out?

 **[6 May 2003, 11:58 PM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** You anywhere near Phoenix, Arizona this weekend?

 **[26 July 2003, 9:42 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** #j2m’  
**Dean Winchester:** Whoops sorry about that. Typos.  
**Dean Winchester:** You okay? Haven’t texted back at all.

 **[13 November 2003, 12:58 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Cas?

 **[9 February 2004, 7:59 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Hey, if you need help, you know I’ll come right away. What’s wrong?

 **[21 June 2004, 12:00 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Hey, need you to call me back.

 **[18 September 2004, 5:51 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Sam talked to me a while back.  
**Dean Winchester:** Okay, that’s a lie. He talked last year.  
**Dean Winchester:** Says you’re dead.  
**Dean Winchester:** I guess that’s reasonable. If your phone died, you would have called with a payphone or someone else’s phone. Visited Sam’s place.  
**Dean Winchester:** I’m sorry I didn’t get to help you.

 **[26 October 2004, 2:18 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** I miss you, Cas.

Castiel's face twitches with confusion; He can't remember, for the life of him, when he has ever met Dean, let alone get close enough for him to message him like this. He's sure he would remember if he became friends with a human. He doesn't even _want_ to be friends with a human in the first place. How he got to this stage with Dean is out of his comprehension.

Dean comes back then, saying, "Okay, you know what? Life's short, so whatever. I don't care why you were gone. I'm just glad you're alive and back. We're good."

 _That doesn't matter to me_ , Castiel thinks. He says instead, "Okay."

Dean takes the phone and plugs it into a charger, explaining, "It's almost dead, so." He pauses uncomfortably before he says, "I hope you were getting all caught up with Bonham."

Castiel furrows his eyebrows, "Who's Bonham?"

Dean answers smoothly, "He's the guy who plays Saturday nights at the diner."

"I see," Castiel says half-heartedly. He doesn't care who this Bonham is.

Dean sighs quietly and asks, "Do you still not sleep?"

"I don't sleep," Castiel replies.

Dean mutters to himself, "Well, at least that's one thing that hasn't changed." He says, louder this time, "Well, I'm going to take a shower."

Castiel nods and Dean grabs some clean clothes before entering the bathroom, locking the door. After a few moments of silence, Castiel shrugs off the coat, staring at it. It belonged to his vessel; he'd been wearing it when he let Castiel possess him. He'd kept it on because... well, he can't remember. Why did he keep it on? It's more trouble than it's worth.

He drops the trench coat on the bed and picks up the phone. The red 14% at the corner of the screen suddenly lights up to a bright green 100% and he disconnects it from the plug. He places the phone in his pocket and flies away, leaving the coat behind. Why he ever kept it, he can't figure it out.

**November 18, 2005**

_Dear Bobby,_

_Sorry for not writing to you sooner. Things have been pretty crazy. Sam's in his graduating year of Stanford, ain't that amazing? He even has a girl now. I met her, she's real nice. I think you'd like her a lot too. Way out of Sammy's league. He took time off so he could come to help me with something._

_Dad went off the radar a few months ago. I think he found a lead on what killed my mom, so I don't know why he wants to do this alone. I can't find him myself but thankfully, Sam agreed to help. We've done a few cases together on the way, mostly stuff that Dad texts us from a private number or cases he left in his journal. Otherwise, we've had no luck finding him. If he calls you, will you let me know? Thanks._

_Anyway, even with all that, that's not what I'm writing to talk to you about. I need to give you some backstory first._

_4 July 2002, I met this guy and then we met again months later when he helped me with a crazy ghost who almost killed me. He's a good hunter. A little quiet, but good. He has this trench coat he always wears. Like I have never seen the guy without it on. One time we were on a case and I called your fake FBI number (please tell me the new one) and you didn't pick up, so he and I were thrown into a holding cell. He busted us out and we were laughing, you know? It was really fun._

_So now you get him a little bit. He disappeared after his brother came to talk to him and I haven't seen him since then. It's been two years. We think he's dead because come on. If someone in our line of work just shuts up and never calls, they're probably dead._

_But then suddenly we see him in this diner after the case and he's like... out of it or something. Something's just off. We had this thing about John Bonham and he didn't know who he was. I gave him a phone and made the password 'password', even wrote it on a note for him, but he forgot it. And we also had this whole thing where he says 'my apologies' and I told him people say 'I'm sorry', but he switched back. He left his coat behind when he ran off. I know this sounds pretty no-problem now that I'm looking at it, but I swear something is wrong with him. His eyes just don't meet mine the same way they used to._

_I think a demon's possessing and pretending to be him. Piss poor imitation, honestly. That's not the Cas I know._

_Sam and I can swing by Sioux Falls so you can test him. You've got everything to take down a demon. Let me know when we can come over. I'll handle bringing Cas there._

_Take care, Bobby._

_Dean_


	6. Hello, Goodbye

_Whoever said the small things don’t matter has never seen a match start a wildfire._  
**Beau Taplin**

**November 26, 2005**

Castiel has new orders -- find Akobel and kill him and his child. Castiel hasn’t seen him in a very long time and never did he imagine that Akobel was not only on Earth with a human wife, but also harboring a Nephilim daughter. He’s been told the Nephilim’s name is May Sunders.

He doesn’t care.

The order came straight from Ishim, given to Castiel, Benjamin, and Mirabel. Mirabel and Benjamin instantly started plotting on how to find them together but Castiel went off on his own. He can see it in Ishim's eyes, the grave disappointment when he looks at him like he has done nothing but fail since his creation.

Well, no longer. Castiel will prove him wrong. He will find Akobel, he will kill him and the Nephilim. He will prove that he has always been Heaven’s perfect servant.

He doesn’t know where to begin trying to find Akobel because he can’t sense him when he flies down. Wherever he is, he must have warded it against angels. At least he was thorough, Castiel will give him that. The phone in his pocket vibrates and he takes it out, reading the text message.

 **[November 26, 2005, 4:13 PM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Hey, Cas. We need some help with a case. Can you swing by Sioux Falls today? I’ll text you the address if you can.

He types out a quick response and hits send, already locating Sam and Dean.

 **[November 26, 2005, 4:16 PM]**  
**Castiel Novak** : Of course. I’m in the area.

Dean sends the address and Castiel is at the door right away. He knocks twice and waits for an answer.

Dean opens the door with an easy smile, saying, “Hey, Cas. Come on in.”

Sam and the one known as Bobby Singer by the Winchesters stay inside. Sam gives him an uncomfortable look and Castiel can see Bobby’s fingers graze the gun on the table behind him. Dean steps aside and waits for Castiel to walk in.

Castiel frowns instantly. The dark amber of their souls gives their distrust away. The way Sam shakes in anticipation only fuels his irritation with the Winchesters.

He sticks out a foot and steps down on the large carpet on the floor, dragging it aside to reveal the devil’s trap painted on the wooden floor. Dean’s stare snaps straight to Sam and Bobby and the latter of them raises the gun to Castiel’s head. Castiel knows this isn’t the only one. A quick look upwards reveals another one on the ceiling, and he’s aware of even more painted and laid all around the house. They’re trying to check if he’s a demon.

Sam’s hand jerks forward and he splashes a cup of holy water in Castiel’s face.

Castiel says flatly, wiping the water off his face, “You don’t trust me.”

“Sorry, Cas,” Sam says sheepishly, walking off to get him a towel. Castiel grits his teeth and wipes his hands dry on his pants.

Bobby continues eyeing him suspiciously as Dean says, “Can you blame us? We thought you were dead.”

“So you keep telling me,” Castiel says icily. “But I am not.”

“We’re sorry,” Dean says. “Now we know for sure you’re not a demon. I’m sorry.”

Castiel doesn’t even bother gracing him with a response as Sam comes up with a small towel. Castiel dries his face as he says, “If your case was a hoax, then let me tell you about mine so you can make up for this nonsense.”

“Okay, lay it on us,” Sam says.

Before Castiel can, Bobby cuts in, “What, that’s it?”

Castiel tilts his head in challenge, snapping, “Would you like to cut me up with your pathetic demon blade? Make me drink holy water? Tie me to a crucifix? What?”

Dean rests a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, putting himself between Bobby and him, “Okay, relax. You’re not a demon, we get it now. Just tell me about your case.” He turns back and mouths to Sam to bring Bobby to another room and Sam obeys, taking Bobby with him to the kitchen. Dean sits Castiel down on the couch and he sits in the chair next to it just as Sam comes back, no longer with Bobby. “Go on.”

“I need to find someone,” Castiel starts, already feeling a lot calmer now that there are just two humans to deal with instead of three. “It’s a creature more dangerous than anything you will ever face. I cannot find it because --“ Castiel quickly thinks up of a lie; He can’t say it’s because it’s warded because then he’ll have to tell them he’s an angel, and he’d gotten specific instructions not to let the Winchesters know. Ishim is already keeping a careful eye on him because of this task and he is not eager to disobey direct orders under that kind of surveillance.

“-- I don’t have the resources,” Castiel finishes. “I was hoping that you and your brother will be able to excel where I failed.”

Dean nods, saying, “If you know anything about this ‘creature’, we’ll try to find it.”

Castiel says, “It’s being kept by a woman named Lily Sunders.” He doesn’t bother mentioning Akobel. He knows that if the Winchesters look him up, it’s likely they’ll either find him in the Bible or come up with nothing at all. They have better luck with the human.

“Okay. I think we’ll have a lead by tonight,” Sam says. He sits quietly, staring at Castiel for a few moments.

Dean pipes up, “You’ve changed.”

 _That again_. First Inias and now this damned human. “So I’ve been told,” Castiel says.

“What happened?” Sam asks.

“Nothing,” Castiel answers. “I have always been like this.”

“Bullshit,” Dean replies. “You’re not the Cas I know. He was nicer and happier, and he didn’t snap at people for no damn reason.”

“Dean,” Sam says quietly. “Stop.”

Dean adds, a little louder, “If you would just _talk_ to me, man.” He has a short fuse, clearly. Castiel can feel all that anger simmering under Dean’s skin, can practically hear the flames crackling in his veins. Sam’s eyes meet the ceiling for a second before he grabs Dean’s arm, dragging him aside to talk quietly. Dean goes off to the kitchen to join Bobby and Sam comes back.

“I’m sorry about that,” Sam says. “Dean gets a bit testy when it comes to people he cares about.”

“A bit seems to be an understatement,” Castiel mutters.

Sam stares at him, expression completely lost on Castiel’s angelic ignorance of human emotion, and says, “Look, I don’t know if you’re having a bad day or what, but... Dean’s really trying to help you, so maybe you can find it in you to at least cooperate or be a little nicer. If not to me, then at least to him. Can you try?"

"Fine," Castiel says. If he just plays up the friendliness with them until he gets close enough to Akobel and his child, it's manageable. "My apologies."

"Alright," Sam says, still looking unsure. "Hey, I don't blame you, okay? This line of work, it's pretty messed up. We see all kinds of crazy shit we shouldn't ever have to. I know you started young, so I get it. _We_ get it. I don't know what happened to you in the last two years, what case you were working, but if you ever want to talk about it, we're here for you. You shouldn't have to suffer alone."

"Okay," Castiel says. He's not sure that there's anything to add.

Sam adds, "And if you don't want to talk to Dean, maybe you want to talk to someone who isn't so close to you, I'm here. I'll talk to Bobby and bring him around. You could talk to him too. He's been like a dad to us and Dean said yours isn't so great, so he could be one for you too." Castiel nods absently as Sam continues, "Dean really cares about you, Cas. We don't always get close to people, especially Dean, so it's nice, you know. That he has a soft spot for you. When he gets angry, it's just because he cares a lot."

"I get it," Castiel says, already a little tired of Sam going on and on. Humans are a drag. "I'll be nicer."

"Thank you," Sam says. "Okay, we're gonna find Lily Sunders and let you know. I think Bobby wants to talk to you."

Castiel is now in the kitchen with Bobby while Sam and Dean move their research to the living room. Bobby busies his hands with tidying up the counter while Castiel leans on the table, staring at him working. Finally, Bobby speaks up, "Where did you come from?"

"Pontiac, Illinois," Castiel answers smoothly. In order not to draw attention, he decided to take from Jimmy Novak's history and use it as his own.

"Got any family?"

"Many. We aren't close," Castiel says.

Bobby sniffs, moving some spell ingredients into a shelf. "What do you want with Dean?"

"Excuse me?"

"You've got a reason for sticking around. The Winchesters don't exactly have the reputation of being upstanding pals," Bobby mutters. "You ghost him for two years and suddenly you're cozying up? I don't buy it."

Yes, Castiel has decided; He despises Bobby Singer. Maybe even more than he despises Sam and Dean Winchester. He walks up to Bobby, so close that they're almost touching. Castiel is a little taller than him and Bobby has to look up to make eye contact. He says in a low voice, "You do not have to 'buy it'. I do not need to explain myself to you. I welcome you to stab me with the demon blade in your shoe and drown me in holy water if it so pleases you. You will find nothing. I am not a demon." He adds, after a moment of thought, "Challenge me once more and I may not be so kind. You should show me some respect."

Bobby is frozen blue and yellow with fear and intimidation and before he can say anything, Sam calls out, "Cas, we got something!"

Castiel stares Bobby down and asks, "Do I make myself clear?"

Bobby says quietly, "Stay away from my boys."

"No," Castiel answers simply. "Only God commands me."

**December 2, 2005**

Castiel is silent the whole journey as Sam and Dean pull up in Lily Sunders' driveway. Dean had put classical music on during the drive there and Castiel is aware that it's his way of saying things are fine between them. He doesn't care, but he supposes it's a nice gesture.

"We're here," Dean says, slowing the Impala to a stop. "Do you know her?"

"She's married to my brother," Castiel answers, getting out of the car. Sam and Dean stare at each other and quickly follow him out.

Dean asks, "Woah, this is the brother you told me about, the one whose wife didn't like you?"

Castiel furrows his eyebrows and replies, "I don't recall." Dean is about to say something but Castiel walks up to the door, knocking on it.

Akobel answers with a smile on his face, "Castiel, hello. I wasn't expecting you." He looks behind him to see Sam and Dean, "You have guests with you. Friends?"

"Sam and Dean Winchester," Sam introduces, gesturing respectively between him and Dean. "Nice to meet you..."

"Akobel," he fills in, shaking Sam's extended hand and then Dean's. "Come on in."

The three follow Akobel into the home and Sam starts a conversation with Akobel about what he has going on at Stanford. Dean and Castiel look around and Dean asks, "Where's the thing?"

Castiel looks towards the staircase, "It must be upstairs. You will have to assist me in distracting Lily Sunders and Akobel."

"Got it," Dean says, nodding. He turns to Akobel and asks, "Where's your wife?"

Akobel smiles at him and says he'll get her, going upstairs. He comes back down with Lily who doesn't look happy to see Castiel. He doesn't bother with her, teleporting upstairs when everyone is no longer paying attention to him.

He appears in the room of May Sunders. She has Akobel's vessel's kind eyes and Lily Sunders' defiant air. He draws his angel blade out of his sleeve, letting the silver handle fall into his palm as he nears her carefully, trying not to attract her attention as she's busy with her dolls. She turns around right then and he shuts his eyes, cringing as May lets out an ear-piercing scream at the sight of his angel blade.

Lily is at the doorway instantly, angel blade in her own hand. He stares at it, wide-eyed, as Lily demands, "Step away from her."

Castiel raises his hands slowly, the angel blade returning to the inside of his sleeve. Akobel, Sam, and Dean come upstairs and the Winchesters' gaze falls onto the girl. They turn to each other, silent conversation unhearable to Castiel, and Akobel asks, "Castiel, what are you doing?"

"Killing the Nephilim," Castiel says. "I have orders to do so."

"What orders?" Dean asks, realizing that the 'dangerous creature' is the terrified girl on the floor.

Akobel looks on in horror, "What did they do to you?"

Castiel lashes out, knocking the angel blade out of Lily's hand. He grabs it before she can and takes hold of May. She shouts out, " _Manete_!" Castiel freezes in his place and May runs towards Lily's open arms.

Dean asks, "Cas, what's going on?"

"She is a Nephilim. She needs to die," Castiel grunts, trying to break through Lily's immobilization spell.

"She's a kid!" Sam says in disbelief.

"She is a _Nephilim_ ," Castiel insists. Lily runs out with May and Castiel breaks through the spell right then.

Sam turns to Akobel, "Let's get them out of here, come on." Akobel voices his gratefulness and they both go after May and Lily.

Dean says, once they're alone, "Cas, this isn't you." He positions himself at the doorway to stop him. "Don't do this."

"You're not my boss," Castiel says coldly. "Move. I won't ask twice."

"Sorry, man. You're gonna have to go through me," Dean replies, almost nonchalantly. It sends a flash of red hot irritation shooting through Castiel's veins and he reaches out, pulling Dean closer by his collar. Dean's hands come up to try and put some distance between them so he can get a clear shot but Castiel is faster, moving out of the way of Dean's fist and letting his own collide with his jaw.

Dean stumbles back from the hit and tries to get back his bearings. He punches Castiel in his face as well, only turning away to hold his hand in agony. Hitting an angel is like having steel slammed against your knuckles, it's no fun trip and Castiel knows that.

Castiel grabs Dean's jacket and hauls him up, throwing him against the wall. He crashes down, destroying the dollhouse under him. Castiel turns away, about to try and catch up with Akobel, but then he feels a blade pierce through his back.

He closes his eyes, angry and sick of Dean, and reaches behind, pulling it out. It's a demon blade and obviously doesn't work on him. Dean stares at him in horror as Castiel flicks the blood off of the blade onto the floor and the red drops draw a dotted line on the carpet. Castiel drops it and punches Dean across his face, sending Dean falling to his knees.

Dean holds up a hand, trying to have something between them. "Cas, stop."

"We wouldn't be in this position if you had just left me alone," Castiel says, snapping his fingers. Dean is frozen in place, staring in fear. "This is your doing."

Sam appears at the doorway, "Dean, they're gone." Castiel grits his teeth and throws up his hands in exasperation. Sam's attention goes to Dean and he asks, "What did you do?"

"Be quiet," Castiel demands. The air goes out of Sam's lungs and he crumbles to the floor, clawing uselessly at his throat as he makes breathless sounds. Dean tries to move, but Castiel keeps him where he is.

Dean says, "Cas, let him go." Castiel's face twists in disdain but he listens, due to the fact that both Winchesters had to stay alive. Sam catches his breath and Dean says, "This is not you. Who gave you orders?"

Castiel extends his hand, throwing them both against the wall once more before he flies away.

**December 7, 2005**

_Dear Bobby,_

_First off: No, haven't found Dad yet. We'll keep you posted. Promise._

_Second: Sam and I need to go to your place again but first I need to tell you what happened with Cas's case. The dangerous thing he was trying to capture and kill is something called a Nephilim. I need you to help research that for us, because the only thing showing up is half-human half-angel, and angels aren't real._

_The thing is, this Nephilim was a kid, and Cas was ready to click her off switch. You should have seen him, it's like he's a whole new guy. Scared the shit outta me if I'm being honest._

_He said he had orders to kill her. I know he said his dad treated him and his siblings like they were soldiers, so I'm thinking maybe his dad's at fault. He never told me who his dad is, though._

_Bobby, Cas isn't human. That's fucking terrifying._

_The demon blade? Worth shit against him. I stabbed him with it and he just pulled it out. No dice. He didn't even flinch. He threw me and Sam across the room without even touching us. I punched him and I feel like I could have broken my hand. It's like punching reinforced steel, hurts like a bitch. That's not even all. He snapped his fingers and suddenly I couldn't move. Then he told Sam to shut up and it's like Sam's lungs are gone, he fell and was just gasping for breath. I asked him to explain himself and he didn't answer, just threw us and teleported away._

_His expression didn't change once at all. Cas didn't even care._

_I know what you're going to say. Cas is an asshole and yadda yadda. I know him, Bobby. I know Cas, and this is not him. Something happened to him. I don't care if he's human or not. I don't care what he is. I know him and he's my friend no matter what._

_Does it scare me, does he scare me? Yes. It makes me want to stop being a hunter if there's something as strong as him out there that we don't even know about. But things like him are exactly why I have to be a hunter. If Cas goes crazy, if he tries to kill people who don't deserve it, I need to know what he is and I'll know how to deal with him. It doesn't matter how Goddamn scary he is. I just need you to tell me what you can find about something like him._

_If it helps any, his name is Castiel Novak and he comes from Pontiac, Illinois._

_Let me know as soon as you've got something. We'll drive to you. We'll set up whatever trap we need to set up. I'll pray to him and hopefully, we'll trap him and get answers._

_Bobby, I'm so damn scared about this. I don't know what the hell Cas is. Dad's been missing for way too long. Please help me with this._

_Dean_

**December 13, 2005**

Naomi and Ishim watch Castiel from afar. He's in his heaven once more, simply staring out quietly to the lake while the man rambles on and on about something or other. He's long lost the tan overcoat, only donning the simple black and whites of a suit. He's been standing there for a while, unmoving, face still as a stone.

"Are you sure letting him run point on the Winchesters is a good idea?" Naomi asks. "We know how Dean Winchester affected him."

Ishim replies, "Just look at him, Naomi. We removed Dean entirely from his mind and memory, and just look at him. Completely at Heaven's every beck and call. Just the other day, he actually struck Dean."

Naomi's eyes widen, "Is that so?"

"Yes. It was in his mission report," Ishim says. "He failed to get the Nephilim, but Mirabel and Benjamin got Akobel and the Nephilim so no harm is done. I consider this a victory either way."

"It's fascinating," Naomi muses. "Deleting one small, insignificant human from his mind was enough to return him to the perfect angel he was meant to be. I should have been doing that from the start."

"Dean Winchester is torn up about this," Ishim laughs, pleased with the overall situation. "His precious 'Cas' is no longer, and Castiel has not a shred of humanity in his body. Castiel is fit to continue his task of watching the Winchesters."

Naomi nods approvingly, "I'm sure this is the one that sticks. Castiel shows no signs of reverting back. If you catch him slipping, you tell me and I will erase Dean from his memories again."

"You got it," Ishim assures. "Welcome home, Castiel. Finally, you belong."


	7. Please Mister Angel

_Feeling the loss of him so acutely, still._  
**Raymond A. Foss**

**February 3, 2006**

Dean is anxious, for lack of a better word. He and Sam are on the way to Sioux Falls, and his hands are shaking against the steering wheel. Metallica pumps through Baby's speakers and his fingers drum nervously with the beat. Sam keeps himself busy being on a call with Jess, letting her know he'll come back to Stanford to see her on the weekend if he can catch some time away.

Castiel Novak is not human. That much Dean knows.

In truth, he doesn't care what Cas is. The only thing that scares the crap out of him is that he doesn't know what Cas is capable of and why he's acting out the way he is. Something has happened to him in the past two years and he just wants to find out what and how to fix it so he can get his Cas back.

Sam hangs up and says, "I might go back to Stanford this weekend to see Jess if it's fine with you." Dean nods half-heartedly and Sam glances at him in thought. "Dean, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Dean mumbles, pretending to be buried in the music.

The ruse doesn't sell and Sam says, "I know you're worried about what Bobby's found out about Cas and what that means for you or him, but I'm sure it's fine. We'll figure it out, we always do. We'll get Cas back and then we can just put this all behind us, yeah?"

"Yeah," Dean says, unconvinced. He feels like there's more to this but he can't think about what it should be.

Soon, they stop outside Bobby's house. It's very homely to Sam and Dean, despite the layer of dust over everything and how desperately the place needs a deep cleaning. It had comforting energy to it and they liked Bobby. They walk up to the door and knock, going in when Bobby tells them it's unlocked.

"Hey, Bobby," Sam greets. "What did you find?"

"You may wanna sit down for this," Bobby starts. "Now, I know exactly what you would think about it. Just know that it was all I could find that made sense with the description in Dean's letter."

"Lay it on us," Dean says.

“Your pal’s an angel,” Bobby declares. Sam and Dean exchange bewildered looks.

Sam says, confused, "Okay... I mean, he's a nice guy and all, but --"

"No, I mean the real thing," Bobby interrupts. "Straight out of the Bible, the loyal servants of God."

“Those don’t exist,” Dean half-laughs while Sam reads over the texts Bobby has pulled out.

Bobby raises his eyebrows in exasperation, “Let’s lay out the facts, shall we? Your buddy isn’t a demon because the blade did nothing. His powers are way out of a demon’s regular skillset too. You said he’s Castiel Novak from Pontiac, Illinois?” At Dean’s nod, Bobby continues, “No such guy. There’s a James Novak there who looks exactly like him, though.”

“So Cas is possessing James?” Sam checks, glancing up from the page.

“What else? Do you think some upstanding man who sells morning radio ad time would rename himself something like 'Castiel'? Hell no,” Bobby scoffs. “I checked all over too, in case he changed his home address or whatever. Not a single Castiel in the phone book.”

“We’re not any closer to knowing what he is, are we?” Sam asks while Dean tries to make sense of all this. “I mean, yeah, you said he’s an angel but is it feasible...”

Bobby says, “I looked him up in all my texts. All I found that was any use came from the Bible. Castiel is the angel of Thursday.”

Sam looks at Dean and can see he's having trouble processing 'Castiel is an angel', so he asks, "How do we trap an angel?"

"This may be a little unreliable because there isn't much on angel lore, but a ring of holy fire does the trick. It does to them what a devil's trap does to a demon," Bobby says, pulling out an old book that's frayed at the corners and showing it to Sam. "We just need to lay holy oil and once he's in it, we ignite it with a lit match. That should be enough to hold him." Sam nods and walks off to retrieve holy oil from Bobby's cabinets, leaving the two men alone. Dean's hands absently toyed with the corner of an open book while Bobby watches him carefully. "Dean."

"Yeah, Bobby?" he asks, looking up quickly. "Sorry, zoned out."

"If this whole thing with your friend is a lot, you're welcome to sit it out. I'm sure your brother and I can handle trapping him," Bobby offers. "I know you were close."

"No, I want to help him," Dean says. He snaps into his hunter mindset, saying, "Okay, Sam's getting the holy oil and I guess you'll have the match. I'll pray for him."

Bobby raises an eyebrow just as Sam returns with the oil, "Pray?"

"He shows up every time I do," Dean explains. He thinks over his words. "I guess the whole angel thing should have been more obvious. Thought they were just coincidences."

Bobby huffs a sarcastic chuckle, " _Twice_ is a coincidence, boy. Thrice is a pattern."

Sam lifts the jug of holy oil and says, "If everyone's ready, we'll head outside? I don't wanna burn down this place."

Once they're outside in a clearing, Sam carefully pours the oil into a circle and Bobby gets out a matchstick, nodding towards Dean. Dean closes his eyes and starts talking.

* * *

The first prayer comes from Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

 _Hey, if anyone's up there listening... I need help, serious help._ Castiel's ears prick up. Yes, he doesn't like Dean. Yes, he still has to keep him safe. _I got shot. And, uh, the blood's everywhere. I think I'm gonna die._

Castiel is there in an instant, following where Dean's prayer came from. He lands in an open field, looking around to find Dean. He sees him, standing and perfectly fine, and before he can realize what that means, Bobby Singer drops a lit matchstick on the ground and a ring of holy fire lights up around his feet. Castiel's hands ball into fists in anger when he processes that he has not only been trapped but also discovered.

"We know what you are," Sam says. "You're an angel."

"Impressive observational skills," Castiel says bitterly. "What do you want? You called me for a reason."

"Who's James Novak?" Bobby asks. "Your vessel?"

"Correct. My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord. Jimmy Novak is my vessel. My true form would blind you," Castiel affirms, still seething from getting tricked into the angel trap. He should have checked, landed somewhere else. "Is that all?"

Dean asks, "Tell me what you were doing the past two years."

Castiel replies, "My heavenly duties. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Bullshit," Dean spat. "You wouldn't have turned out like this. Something happened to you up in your castle in the sky. Nobody changes this much for no reason. I know someone did something to you." At Castiel's silence, he continues, "Listen, I don't care if you're an angel. I forgive you for what happened at Akobel's house. But just let me help you. I owe you that much."

"You can help me by breaking the trap," Castiel says. "Nothing happened to me."

"Maybe it's something you don't remember," Sam suggests. Castiel stares at him and Sam keeps talking. "You know, maybe -- _Maybe_. Hear me out. Did you get brainwashed? Dean said you forgot everything that ever happened with you two."

Dean nods, "Yeah. Bonham, the whole sorry thing, when you broke us out of that holding cell. When you told me Lily Sunders didn't like you. You don't remember meeting my dad. You left your coat behind. Dude, whatever it is, we'll deal with it together. You're not alone, okay?"

Castiel feels frustration, dark purple bubbling under his skin threatening to explode. He hates this. Hates the interrogation, hates the way they're looking at him, hates the way he can't get away from this conversation. But Castiel is starting to feel doubt. Why _wasn't_ he able to remember all of this? Especially since they were _all_ adamant about the fact that it has happened. They recognized _him_ and not Jimmy Novak. Notably, they figured out that he was an angel based on how 'differently' he had been behaving.

So what, then, was his normal self like? He thought this was all there is to him, an angel whose loyalty only laid with God and who held a deep resentment towards the human race. But even with that being the thing Castiel was so sure of, it may not be so true after all.

"Why did you lie to us about being an angel?" Dean changes the subject before Castiel can go any deeper into his thoughts.

"I didn’t lie," Castiel says. "I omitted a truth you failed to ask for. If you had asked me if I was an angel, I would have affirmed your suspicions."

"Okay, smartass," Bobby mutters. A sharp look from Castiel served no purpose since he's still immobilized by the angel trap.

"What do you remember?" Sam asks. "We can try to fill in the blanks."

Castiel casts his gaze down to his shoes. "Nothing."

Dean asks, "Really nothing?"

" _Nothing_ ," Castiel says, voice hardened with annoyance. "I don't remember seeing you before you saw me at the diner after your demon case. I don't know why that overcoat or 'sorry' bothers you so much. I don't know who John Bonham is. I don't know what holding cell you're talking about. I don't know when I have ever met Lily Sunders except when we went to see them. I don't remember _anything_."

"Okay, okay. Take it easy, Cas," Dean says, stepping closer. He looks like he wants to step over the fire, into the trap with Castiel, but he stops himself right at the edge of it. "This is good. I mean, we can figure this out now."

Castiel mumbles, "This doesn't make any sense."

"What doesn't make sense?" Sam asks. "We're just going to see if we've got anything that can restore your memory, find out who did this to you --"

"I don't mean that," Castiel cuts in. "I don't know why you insist on trying to make me this rebel. I am not Lucifer -- I am nothing like him. I am nothing like Akobel. I refuse to fail where he did."

"Cas, you're not failing anyone," Dean tries to say.

Castiel continues, his rage spilling over the edge, "I am failing _God_! I see it on my superiors' faces. I am disappointing everyone. I am a poor excuse for an angel." He closes his eyes and tries to bring himself back to the ground. The only thing his anger is doing is just making the flames around him stronger and the last thing he wanted was to be trapped longer than he had to be. "If I don't remember anything, it has to be for a reason. I'm not stupid, I know they hate me. It must be because of you. You do not understand, I _cannot_ fail them anymore."

"Cas --"

"Let me go," Castiel interrupts coldly. "I won't ask again."

Bobby says, "You can't do anything in there."

Castiel turns to him and threatens, dark and dangerous, "I invite you to wait until I am free. I will make you eat your words."

Dean stares between Sam, Bobby, and Castiel, trying to think of what to do. He leans over and talks to Sam and Castiel watches Sam and Bobby walk back into the house. Now alone, Dean says, "I'm gonna let you go."

"Thank you," Castiel says insincerely.

"But," Dean starts. Castiel waits for whatever is coming. "You have to read the thing I'm gonna write to you. And you have to _read_ it. Not just look over the words. I'm trying to help, okay? I told Sam I was gonna get more information out of you. I'm letting you go, so please just do me a solid and read the thing when I give it to you."

"Fine. You have my word," Castiel promises. "Let me go."

Dean extinguishes the ring of holy fire by dumping a pile of dirt on an edge. When the ring is broken, Castiel instantly flies away.

**February 14, 2006**

_Dear Cas,_

_This is the letter I told you to read. It's gonna be every time we met. I hope this helps in some way. And that you actually, you know, read it._

_We met on July 4, 2002. You watched me set off my fireworks because Sam wasn't there to celebrate with me and my dad was on a case. You offered me a lighter and a matchbox. You told me you didn't have a last name and that you don't eat. The second time, October 23, 2002. You saved me from dying under a collapsed barn. Told me you were a hunter, then we took down that ghost together. But now that I know what you are, I think you took it on on your own and were just humoring me. We were gonna go to a bar and celebrate but you freaked out about it so we went to my motel instead._

_You actually asked me what 'a Led Zeppelin' was. Even now, that's still really funny._

_You had no phone number, no email, no home address._

_You also helped me with this vampire case. You're a damn good hunter, Cas._

_I invited you to Christmas and you met Sam and Jess. Sam said you ate Jess's Mac and Cheese to be polite. Knowing you're an angel, I guess now I know why you don't eat. Sorry for forcing you. I'm guessing human food isn't the greatest to eat, huh?_

_I gave you a phone. The one you have. The wallpaper was you watching Tom and Jerry. You didn't call me for a long time but then you walked into the diner Dad and me were in. You met my dad. You didn't get along, he didn't like you much. But you told him your last name was Novak._

_Then we met again in Nevada, March 30, 2003. You actually came into the bar which surprised me since you had the whole 'den of iniquity' thing about it. You talked to me about meeting Lily Sunders. You said she didn't like you which also surprised me._

_I don't know why anyone wouldn't like you. I told Sam this, you're like this little nerdy dude. You're pretty awesome, man._

_And you kept saying 'my apologies' and I said people usually say 'I'm sorry'. You know, less formal and all that. You picked it up real quick. Then we worked a case the next morning but I messed up and got us thrown into a holding cell. You broke us out and left chaos behind while we ran out. I never laughed harder than right then. I have so much fun with you._

_That's where the Bonham thing came from too. The fake FBI ID I gave you, you were Special Agent John Bonham, like the drummer in Led Zeppelin._

_Then your brother came to get you. A balding dude who kinda looks like he'd tell on you in high school._

_Well, you're all caught up now. If you have anything you wanna know, well, you know where to find me, right?_

_You're my friend, Cas. I'll do anything for you. Just ask me._

_Dean_


	8. Help!

_It is only wrong for angels who can live like the flowers,_  
_Holding malice like the puppies,_  
_Waging war like the lambkins._  
**Stephen Crane**

**February 27, 2006**

The second prayer comes from Denver, Colorado. Castiel listens as Dean starts talking. _Cas, I don't know if you're listening, but I just need to talk. I know you don't like me much but will you humor me?_

Castiel flies down to where Dean is. He's in a dark alleyway alone and Castiel can see that the Impala is nowhere to be seen, which means Dean must have walked there from wherever he was before. He leans against the brick wall, invisible to Dean's eye, and listens to him talk. Dean continues, "So, Jess died. You may not remember her, she's Sam's girlfriend. You ate her mac and cheese, I remember writing that in the previous letter. I didn't get to see her a lot, just a few times, but she was really nice and Sam loved her more than anything."

Dean pauses and opens his eyes, looking around and likely checking if Castiel is there. He remains hidden, and Dean goes on, "You don't care about that. Okay, I'll just move on. Uh, the thing is, she died the same way my mom did. They burned on the ceiling, blood dripping from their stomachs." Castiel raises an eyebrow -- burning on the ceiling is obviously not a common way of death, so he suspects it to be the work of a demon. Dean explains, "They got pinned on the ceiling and then fire came out from behind them, took the house down with them."

"I had to drag Sam away. He didn't want to leave her but I knew we had to go." He says after a moment, "I think the same thing got them both, but I don't know why them."

That's when Castiel shows himself, leaning against the wall next to Dean. He says quietly, "Hello, Dean." He may not like Dean, but he knows when he should make room.

Dean looks up, slightly startled by his sudden appearance. "Dude, warn me next --" He cuts himself off, giving Castiel a once-over before saying, "Never mind. It's good to see you, Cas."

"I read your letter," Castiel says. "I still don't remember anything, but I read it."

"That's good enough for me," Dean replies, nodding. He looks down at his shoes and talks. "I know things between us aren't the same anymore and you know what? If that's the way it has to be, then fine. I'll make my peace with it. I'm just glad you're here."

Somewhere deep inside Castiel, the smallest prick of apology and the need to placate Dean makes its way to his hands. His fingers lift off the wall slightly, edging their way towards Dean but they stop in their tracks. The sensation of ice all over his body that feels too familiar for Castiel's comfort makes itself known and he stops, letting his hand drop back to his side.

_I hate Dean Winchester._

Castiel changes the subject, "My condolences for your mother and friend."

"Thanks," Dean says. He looks over at the road and adds, "It's worse for Sam this time... He actually knew Jess. He never had the chance to get to know Mom. Too young to remember her."

In Castiel's mind, there's an image -- it's too hazy to make out the specifics of it and he can't focus on any detail for longer than a second but there is a memory. He remembers seeing amber flames, relentless, and unforgiving, burning everything it can touch to ash. Hears a baby cry something awful. The wailing sirens of the local fire department. A street sign that flickers past too quickly for Castiel to read. The image of a white dress. Horror on a face.

And just as quickly as it shows, it fades away. Castiel tries to pull it back, tries to find what sparked the memory in the first place and calls it back to the forefront of his mind but it is gone.

He tries not to show his frustration. "My apologies. It must be difficult."

"Yeah," Dean says, sounding a little far away. "I need to get back to the motel. I don't wanna leave Sammy for too long."

"I'll come with you," Castiel offers. He clarifies, in case Dean gets the wrong idea, "It's my duty to watch over you."

"I thought so," Dean smiles in a shade of dark blue. Sadness? "It's just a few blocks down."

The walk is mostly quiet. Castiel keeps to his side of the sidewalk and Dean stays at his. Castiel thinks he should say something if only to fill the silence. Castiel himself doesn't often talk more than necessary but there is something about the quiet that is uncomfortable and he thinks he may have made a mistake in going to the motel with Dean.

But then the neon sign, two letters flickering dangerously close to being out of order, comes into view and Dean points it out, "We're here." Castiel follows Dean into his and Sam's shared room.

Sam is at the small desk and the corner of it creaks loudly when his elbow leans on it the wrong way. Sam doesn't see them come in and if he does, he doesn't acknowledge their presence. He's busy with his laptop and phone, looking between both screens as he drinks beer straight from the bottle. His hair is messy, sticking up where it naturally wouldn't, and he has dark rings under his eyes. Even with his face too hazy for Castiel to truly see, he can tell Sam has taken Jessica Moore's death hard. His soul emanates truly cruel tones of mourning greys.

"I don't know what to do, man," Dean admits. Castiel looks at him, sees his soul's colors look overly desaturated, almost monochromatic. "Everything's falling apart."

 _So's my life_ , Castiel thinks. _But you don't see me complaining._

An ugly shade of maroon crawls under his skin after the thought. Guilt, he processes, and he tries to gulp it down but it gets stuck in his chest. What the hell is wrong with him? _What has Dean Winchester done to me?_

"Nothing stays the same," Castiel says in an attempt to alleviate the regret he feels. It does nothing to make him feel better about what he thought.

"That's true," Dean says. "I know you didn't really do anything but thanks for coming. You know, with everything that's happened lately, I didn't think you'd show up. Means something to me, man."

"Okay," Castiel says, not knowing what else to respond with. Castiel is all kinds of confused, but Dean letting him out of the angel trap the last time they met does work wonders for his tolerance towards him. It's still low but it's enough for Castiel to be there at the moment. He can spare a moment of kindness in his charge's vulnerability. That's enough, right? Dean said so himself.

"If you need to go then, well... Go," Dean says quietly, glancing at Sam who is still lost in his laptop and phone. "I'll see you when I do."

"Okay," Castiel repeats. "I'll... see you when I do."

He won't admit it, but he lingers for just a second longer than he probably should.

_I hate him. I hate him. I hate him._

**March 6, 2006**

There is something about Dean Winchester that makes Castiel question authority.

Castiel doesn't know what it is exactly. Though the sight of his soul makes the depths of his being boil with rage, it is almost like it fills the hole in his heart he never knew how to repair. Over his thousands of years of being alive, Castiel has seen billions of souls pass him by, but none quite as exquisite as Dean’s. It’s an ethereal shade of light blue, tinged green at the edges, and it looked precious.

There’s a certain monotonous rhythm in the way Heaven is run that quickly grows old into a state of boring humdrum. Castiel aches for adventure. The sight of Dean's soul makes Castiel feel... happy, in a confusing way since he hates him to his very atoms. Castiel doesn't know why he’d never had anything make him feel anything like that before. Then again, he’d never felt much of anything.

Not until now, at least. Because Dean is different. A taste of something broken and satisfying in such dangerous ways that Castiel can't turn away. 

Dean had free will.

Because Castiel aches for that so badly, because he's tired of being bossed around, because he is just done doing things without knowing the why of it. Castiel sneaks around Heaven, trying to find even the smallest shred of information about either Winchester. There must be a reason why they want the brothers protected. If they failed to share that detail with Castiel, then he will gladly dig it up himself. He's tired of serving a man he has never met.

But even searches will meet an end and Castiel finds himself at a moot point.

Castiel knows an angel who might be able to help him find what he's looking for. Balthazar, an old friend of his that has long disappeared from Heaven. Castiel thinks he's dead, but it didn't hurt to try and summon him.

So he does. He gets together the ingredients necessary and performs the summoning spell. He looks away after a moment, thinking that for once, he has genuine confirmation that his friend is dead, but then he hears an English accent say from behind him, "Hello, Cas."

"You're alive?" Castiel gapes, surprised. He'd genuinely thought he was dead.

"Indeed I am," Balthazar says. He admits, "This isn't how I wanted you to find out. Well, if I had it my way, you wouldn't have found out at all, but I'll make do with what I've got."

"Where have you been?" Castiel asks.

Balthazar answers, "On Earth, living on my own. Now, what did you call me for?"

Castiel is tempted to prod more on his friend's history now that he knows he's been alive the whole time, but he decides his current situation is more important than Balthazar's past. He can always find out about that next time. "I need your help to find information."

"Alright. I suppose I owe you that much for ghosting you," Balthazar agrees after a moment of thought. "What do you want to know?"

"What does Heaven want to do with Sam and Dean Winchester?" Castiel asks.

Balthazar frowns but nods anyway, "I'll look around and find you when I have something." With that, Balthazar is gone once again and Castiel begins his wait. He prays that what they have in store is nothing bad.

**March 13, 2006**

Balthazar appears to Castiel on a bench at a playground. Castiel had been there because it was peaceful and he needed to consolidate his thoughts, but Balthazar is here, hopefully with much-needed information regarding the Winchesters.

"You're not going to like this," Balthazar says. It doesn't bode well.

"Tell me."

"They want to make them into cosmic entities, with or without their consent," Balthazar explains. "The procedure is painful, so I heard. One of them will become Evil, and the other will be Good. The bad news is that... they will be stripped of their humanity because no human soul can exist having one without the other. To be good, there must be bad and if there is no balance --"

Castiel cuts in, saying slowly, "They will be destroyed."

"In a way, yes," Balthazar ponders. "They won't know each other or exist on a physical plane. They will have no memory of their history. They will cease to exist as humans."

Castiel buries his head in his hands; Heaven has been preparing the Winchesters for destruction. Even with his hatred that he possessed towards them, he knew no soul, especially one of God's creation, should be subjected to that kind of treatment. The process in itself is no walk in the park either. Extracting their humanity is incredibly painful, and that's if they even survive the immense agony of it.

"What do I do?" he whispers, feeling completely lost and alone for the first time.

Balthazar starts, “I think you should rebel. Now, hear me out. This --“

“Okay.”

_I hate Dean Winchester._

Balthazar's eyebrows rise with genuine shock, "I thought there'd be more of an argument. Just 'okay'?"

"I serve God and he told us to protect humans," Castiel mutters. "Sam and Dean Winchester are humans and therefore under my protection."

"Noble," Balthazar remarks sarcastically. "Alright, rebelling isn't easy. Last time one of us did that... Well, you know the story."

"Get on with it," Castiel interrupts. His patience is wearing thin from Heaven's antics in God's absence.

Balthazar continues, side-eyeing Castiel, "Okay, relax. What I'm trying to say is, I suggest you go off on your own for a while. Play along if they call on you. That way, you won't truly fall from Heaven and get to keep the full scope of your powers to do what you need to do."

"Is that what you did?" Castiel asks.

"No, I faked my death so my angel card didn't get revoked," Balthazar says. "Even if you really fall, it'll be a while before you lose most of your powers but I really think you should continue playing the good angel."

"I _am_ a good angel," Castiel insists. He doesn't know who he's trying to convince, Balthazar or himself.

"Nobody said you weren't," Balthazar defends. "Anyway. I don't have a plan for you and neither do I plan on helping. I've given you your information so I'll be off. Do with it what you will." He stands, ready to leave, but Castiel grabs his arm to stop him. Balthazar looks down, a questioning expression on his face.

"Thank you," Castiel says. "And it was good to see you again."

Balthazar replies genuinely, "You too, Cas."

Then Balthazar disappears into thin air with the sound of wings flapping.

**March 16, 2006**

_Dear Cas,_

_Don't know what goes on up there but I hope all's good with you._

_Sam's getting better bit by bit. I've been trying my best to get us cases one after another to do. It's tiring but it keeps Sam busy. We've still got no luck finding Dad but Sam's more determined to find whatever killed Jess. I feel like Dad sends us on these cases for a reason but going after what killed Jess might get us on the same path as Dad, so I guess I'm at a crossroads or something._

_I know you still have the phone but I guess I like writing sometimes. Takes me outta reality for a bit and we both know it can get a little too much. Or, at least, I know it. I don't know about you. Does it get too much for you?_

_It does, right? You were all tense the last time I saw you. Take it easy, okay? I've got you._

_You're a busy guy so I'll let you go now. You’re welcome back anytime, buddy._

_Dean_

**March 20, 2006**

Castiel despises asking for help. It is weakness and angels are supposed to be all-powerful. Alas, he had no choice in this situation. He didn't have other angels he trusted enough to assist him without selling him out. Balthazar already said he wanted no part of this. This means that his only options are the Winchesters.

He locates the brothers somewhere in Atlanta, Georgia, in a small eatery with a neon sign that doesn't light up properly. They're sharing a pizza, the melted cheese oozing everywhere. It may have seemed delectable if Castiel was human but alas it simply looks grotesque with the way it got all over their fingers.

"Dean," Castiel says, appearing right at their table. It is mostly empty and the only staff member there had turned away right then coincidentally. "Sam."

Both men jolt in shock, not expecting the company, but Dean quickly recovers and flashes him a bright smile, "Cas, good to see you, man."

"I wish I could say the same," Castiel replies. "I need your help."

Sam says, glancing at Dean momentarily, "Um, Cas, we kinda have our hands full."

"With what?" Dean asks. He ignores Sam's wide-eyed stare. For once, Castiel is grateful for Dean's relentlessness.

"What Heaven has in store for the both of you, it is... not pleasant," Castiel says. Though Dean moves aside to give Castiel room to sit with them, he makes no effort to do so. He doesn't fit. He did, physically, but he just didn't feel like he should sit with them, especially with the news he had for them. He explains to them as best as he can what Balthazar told him and it leaves both brothers quiet as they process it. He watches their souls twist with dull yellow sickness at what they've been told and he feels maroon shades of remorse in his chest. Why does he keep _feeling_?

Ever since he met Dean, it's been drop after drop of destructive doubt tearing through his brain and Castiel can't stop it. He hated Dean for doing this to him but he just can't stay away. He could have written a letter or sent him a text message but he was there. Why was he there? He didn't have to be, but Dean was here so so is he. _I hate Dean Winchester._

"And you think we should do it?" Sam asks after he can find it in him to speak. Castiel takes his mind back to the topic at hand.

"No. It goes against everything I stand for," Castiel denies. "I need your help because I am unsure if any angel shares my sentiments on this. You are... the only ones who will help me."

"We'll help you, Cas. You know we will," Dean says, nodding as if to assure Castiel. "But the feathered assholes upstairs wouldn't be too jazzed about that, right?"

Castiel’s eyes flit down to the tabletop and he says, “I’ve been considering... disobedience, for a while. As of six days ago, I came to the decision to go my own way, so to speak.”

Dean comes to a slow realization, “Cas, are you rebelling?”

“I thought that was clear,” Castiel says before he disappears, leaving the brothers to wonder what the hell did Castiel just do. If he's being honest, he doesn't know what he just did either. There's no going back now. He's made his choice between Heaven and Dean --

and Sam. Between Heaven and Dean and Sam.

And he will simply have to run with it. Wherever the tide takes him, he will follow. There is no other path that's available to him now. He only hopes Dean is worth the sacrifice he has decided to make.


	9. You Shook Me

_You cannot make out all the words,_  
_but you’re sure he knows you’re in there,_  
_and he’s singing to you, even though_  
_you don’t know who he is._  
**Richard Siken**

**March 21, 2006**

Castiel follows orders.

It’s the one thing he can do. Every inch of his being lived to serve God. He only ever tried his best to be the most exemplary of angels. When he’s given a mission, he does his job and returns to Heaven to report. Like clockwork, every time, follow the rules and stick to the walls.

Castiel thought that he was better now. He would do his mission and just go home. He just can’t seem to follow the rules, no matter how hard he tries to. Dean doesn’t make it any easier. He wanted so badly to be like the other angels and have full confidence in God, but how do you serve faithfully a man you have never seen before? How do you fight your side of the war when it is so clearly wrong?

Even just looking at Dean starts this tug in him, telling him that there are other paths for his choosing. As if he had any choice in the first place. Angels are emotionless and therefore able to make sound judgment and follow orders without question. Castiel does as he is told, time and again, but he had to face his own concerns.

He had doubts.

Castiel is sure that nobody can exist without doubt. Without it, there is no certainty. To be sure about something, you need to have doubt to truly affirm if it is right. Nobody can live life not asking any questions. He’s lived thousands of years with no questions asked and he’s now realizing how little of his life he actually remembers.

He feels every bit of grace course through his vessel. Jimmy Novak, a devout man who made his living selling advertisement time on morning radio and always said grace before dinner. Castiel doesn’t even remember how he came to possess Jimmy. Angels have an impeccable memory, so why can’t he seem to recall? The grace feels like it's his, but it all feels so wrong. Is it even worth it, keeping this grace for the power?

What is it even for? Castiel no longer knows what he’s been serving all this time. The line between right and wrong had long been blurry. It’s been blurred since Castiel first saw Dean’s soul. So bright and beautiful and pure, he knew he couldn’t deny it in the long run. He can keep telling himself he hates the light blues and natural greens and wants to reduce Dean down to atoms, repeat to himself that Dean is evil incarnate and should go to Hell, but he knew he’s only delaying the one true thought: Dean Winchester may just be too good for him and Castiel was changing to fit him. He can feel it in every emotion that tries to break through the barrier in his heart.

He has always been weak, as his superiors have often told him, though the memories were hazy. He knows he can’t keep fighting Dean and his complete magnetism. You’re pathetic, Castiel thinks self-deprecatingly. They were right.

But now is no time to think about what the angels think of him, now is no time at all. He’d decided to throw his life away the moment he realized Dean Winchester could truly die, for reasons he can’t comprehend or begin to accept.

A soul like that shouldn’t go to waste... At least, Castiel keeps telling himself that that’s why he wants to save Dean. It has nothing to do with the way his hands get ice cold and his neck gets white-hot when Dean smiles at him. It has nothing to do with the way Dean forgives him for things Castiel thinks a normal person wouldn’t. It has nothing to do with the very simple fact that he is Dean Winchester. It is only because Castiel doesn’t think a beautiful soul like that deserves to crumble away.

He doesn’t have very long to ponder on it because he has an appointment at Bobby Singer’s house. He and the hunter haven’t gotten around to repairing their poor rapport and Castiel can’t be bothered to.He has bigger problems but the first thing on his to-do list is to ward Dean so the other angels will not be able to locate him. And Sam. Perhaps getting along with Bobby will have to be a priority as he may have to ward him too.

* * *

Castiel shows up at Bobby Singer’s doorstep and knocks once. Bobby answers with black dotting his soul.

“They told me you were comin’,” Bobby says. “Play nice or stay out here.”

“As far as I am concerned, they are under my protection and by extension, you are as well,” Castiel says. He walks past Bobby where Sam and Dean stand from their seats on the couch.

Dean grin when he sees him. “Hey, Cas. You made it.” Castiel looks away.

Sam’s own smile doesn’t reach his eyes and Castiel thinks he should probably say something about Jessica. Offer condolences, anything. He doesn’t think this is the right time, however, and makes a mental note to talk to him later.

Castiel reaches a hand out towards Dean’s chest and touches it through the flannel shirt. Dean eyes him curiously until he jolts back in shock, clutching his chest. “What the hell was that?”

“I’m warding you so the other angels won’t be able to locate you,” Castiel explains as he does the same thing to Sam. The sting is enough to call Sam back to the land of the living, if only momentarily. “I’ve engraved Enochian spells onto your ribcages.”

As he makes a move towards Bobby, the man holds up his hands to put some distance between the two of them. “You’re not doing that to me.”

“Believe me. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t,” Castiel says. He easily moves Bobby’s hands out of the way — perks of having angelic strength over human strength. Bobby only gets a word of protest out before he jerks backward. “It’s done.”

“How are you gonna find us?” Sam asks.

Castiel takes the phone out of his pocket, “Dean or you may contact me and I will come.”

“I forgot you had a phone,” Sam mumbles. “What about you?”

“Heaven still thinks I serve them, so I will remain as is. But you have to remain hidden. Bobby as well, since you will be residing here and he is your known associate,” Castiel answers. “I will teach you some angel banishment sigils, in the case that the angels find you anyway. The sigils will expel them back to Heaven and will delay them to your benefit.”

“Thanks for the help, Cas,” Dean says.

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel says. It feels familiar, like he’s said that so many times.

Castiel smooths a hand over his black suit. It’s been a long time since he’d left Jimmy’s trench coat in Dean’s motel room and he’d gotten used to not wearing one. He still doesn’t remember why he wore it all that time before. He wonders if Dean left it at the motel or took it with him. If he still has it or has long thrown it out.

“Are you staying around with the boys?” Bobby asks.

“I will drop by, but I will not stay,” Castiel says. He casts a look over at Sam and requests, “Sam, come with me. I’ll show you the warding.”

“Sure,” Sam says, following Castiel into the other room out of Dean and Bobby’s earshot. Castiel hears them start a conversation about a case Bobby worked in Florida the previous week and he tunes it out to focus on Sam, even though Dean’s voice just keeps breaking through.

Once they’re alone, Sam asks, “Okay, how do I ward?”

“Sam,” Castiel says. “Are you alright?”

Sam frowns, confusion tinging his soul grey, and says, “I’m... getting by. Why?”

“Dean told me what happened,” Castiel clarifies. “My condolences. Loss is never easy for anyone.”

“Thanks,” Sam says, giving him a plastic smile. “I mean, that’s probably nothing to you, but thanks.”

“I feel that I should make reparations if we are going to work together,” Castiel says. “I will need to trust you and have you both trust me if we have any chance of stopping it from happening. I’m starting with that.”

Sam nods slowly, understanding where Castiel is coming from. “Then why don’t you talk to Dean? You seem like you hate him more than you hate me.”

“I don’t know where I would begin,” Castiel answers truthfully. He didn’t know a thing about their relations other than what Dean has told him and even the letter is not comparable to actual memories. He knew Sam and he didn’t spend a lot of time together, so trying to get along with him is significantly easier. They didn’t have much history pushing them to one another and Castiel can move at his own pace. All the time Dean and he have shared slams into Castiel like a bullet train he can’t stop, and Dean is a driving force that knocks the wind out of his lungs.

“I can find you something,” Sam offers.

“You’re still... recovering from your loss,” Castiel says, though it comes out sounding more like a question. “Don’t worry about me. I will deal with it.”

Sam shakes his head, “It’s been eating me alive, Cas. You know, I close my eyes and all I see is her burning on the ceiling with her blood dripping on the floorboards. Every moment of my life is a nightmare, and it got me thinking about all those times I could have told her how much she meant to me, how much I loved her, but didn’t, and now she’s gone. And you’re not gone, and Dean is still here. I don’t want to just stand around and watch you and Dean waste away into nothing. I lost my chance with Jess, but you haven’t.”

Aren’t Sam and Jessica romantically involved? Castiel thinks briefly, wondering how Sam is even connecting himself and Jessica to him and Dean. He doesn’t think about it long when Sam says, “I’m gonna give you the letters he’s written to me. He talks about you most times, but there’s bits that could probably give you insight to him... Cas, can you do me a favor?”

“What is it?”

“Just fix this,” Sam says quietly. “Dean hates that he can’t do anything for you.”

“I will read the letters,” Castiel promises. It’s the least he can do for the mourning man, he thinks. If Sam thinks getting Castiel to read the letters will lift his spirits momentarily, then he should do it. It might get everyone else in a better mood as well, Castiel notes. Dean and Bobby would be glad to see Sam in lighter shades, even if he’s the same dull grey of grief.

**March 24, 2006**

**[March 24, 2006, 1:13PM]**  
**Sam Winchester:** Cas, I’ve got the letters. Meet me at Bobby’s.

Castiel flies to Bobby’s house and sees Sam standing at the front door. Castiel walks up to him and Sam holds out a few pieces of paper, each carefully folded twice.

“Here they are,” Sam says. “Give them back when you’re done, I don’t really wanna lose them...”

“I will read them now so you can reclaim them,” Castiel says, already walking past Sam to enter the house. Sam blinks, not expecting that, but he closes the door and joins Castiel in the living room.

Sam says, “Bobby and Dean are out running errands but they’ll probably be back in a couple of hours.”

Castiel nods and lifts the letter at the top to unfold it. The first one doesn’t tell about much more than John Winchester’s increase in hunting trips and that Sam had run off to pursue a less super, more natural lifestyle. The second last paragraph does have a bit more of Dean, though.

_Life’s too short, and yours has just begun. You don’t have to worry about hunting anymore. Carpet Damn or something, I don’t know how to spell it and I can’t be bothered to ask._

“Carpet Damn,” Castiel mumbles, eyebrows furrowing. “Carpe diem?”

Sam grins at that and Castiel thinks Dean would be happy to know that Sam actually smiled today. “Yeah, but Carpet Damn’s pretty funny.”

Castiel only hums in half-hearted agreement. Heaven isn’t overflowing with comedians. Uriel is the funniest angel in his garrison but Castiel had to admit that he is so unaccustomed to humor that he found none of it funny. At least, none of Uriel’s strange jokes could ever bring Castiel to laugh.

Castiel moves on to the next letter and skims through. The first two paragraphs has Dean wishing Sam a happy Halloween and asking if he’s going trick or treating, and Dean threatening an intolerant teacher. This one actually mentions him in the third and fourth paragraphs.

_I met a hunter a while ago, this guy called Castiel. I call him Cas, way shorter and better._

So Dean came up with that, Castiel thinks. He doesn’t know why his attention rests for way too long on that line. He forces his eyes to move forward with the rest of the letter.

_He’s this nerdy little dude, but he’s nice to be around. Talks a little like a robot but you get used to it. He knows what he’s doing and he’s not a shabby hunter either. He doesn’t dress like one, though. Wears a full suit and a trench coat over it. Has no gear of his own. But he helped me out when I got trapped under a barn, so I’m not complaining. He also helped with this shapeshifter case in San José. Maybe Dad will come back when he hears about it._

_Hey, if you’re free anytime soon, I could come see you at Stanford? We could get a drink, catch up in real life for once. I know we write and call, but I miss my brother. If he’s around, maybe I could introduce you and Cas to each other. I think you’d really like him, he’s all smart and stuff like you._

Castiel assumes that after this is when the supposed Christmas dinner took place. He moves on to the next letter, on glancing towards Sam once to check on him. With Dean absent, he thinks he should help him keep an eye on Sam. It seems like having company put him in a slightly better mind. He’s already busying himself with a crossword in the newspaper Bobby has left open, using a pen with a cap that’s been chewed. Castiel doesn’t want to imagine who did it.

The third letter is:

_Does that teacher never rest? Listen, if he’s still giving you trouble, let me know and I can come rough him up for you. Give him a little taste of that Winchester hospitality. No biggie._

Castiel wonders what Dean’s definition of hospitality is. He’s not sure Dean understands the word. As soon as he thinks that, he realizes Dean is simply using irony and it had just gone over Castiel’s head completely.

_Anyway, Dad came back a couple of days ago, said he’s got a lead on whatever killed Mom. I have a feeling he’s gonna take off again soon, but we’re on a shapeshifter case right now so I think it’ll be a while before that happens. Dad’s pretty mad at me. I didn’t screw up this case, so I’ve got no idea what for, but I just get the feeling. Maybe he’ll talk to me about it, I don’t know._

John Winchester has a habit of running off, apparently. Castiel doesn’t need to read Sam’s answers to know that neither brother likes it.

It does bother Castiel, however, that he links it to his failures. Dean thinks he screws up a lot and Castiel himself has experience in that arena. He knows he is a tremendous disappointment as an angel. Him sitting there reading these letters in a house he warded is proof enough. But Dean? Dean is no failure, that much Castiel knows. Dean gets his job and does it, no matter what obstacles come his way. Every hunting case gets closed and he moves on to the next with no qualms or worries. Castiel envies that.

John Winchester’s terrible parenting is not a result of Dean’s mistakes. He should tell Dean that, maybe it can be the start of him trying to build up good rapport.

_No, I haven’t seen Cas in a while. He said he’s got “prior attachments”, so I guess he’s off doing whatever the hell he does in his free time. Yeah, I did give him the phone. He hasn’t called or texted. Part of me thinks he doesn’t even know how to unlock the phone. I even gave him the password written on a little note for him. ‘Password’. Easiest damn password on Earth._

Castiel realizes the note must have been left in the trench coat, because he doesn’t have it on his person. It doesn’t matter anyway, Castiel has memorized the simple passcode. He does wonder why he didn’t contact Dean, it sounded like they were close during the time the letter was written.

He shakes the thought away and moves on to the next letter. Sam mumbles something about going to the bathroom.

_Big breakfasts and sleep. Lots of it. Water helps with hangovers too. Painkillers don't do much for me, but you're welcome to try. Drink that water while you're drinking. I think it helps. I've never tried._

Castiel wonders, very briefly, how many times Dean has drunk himself half-blind to the point that pain medicine is little to no help at all. He wonders why Dean drinks that much alcohol. He wonders if John Winchester is why.

_That painting looks awesome! She really does have a talent. How did she ever get stuck with someone like you? She's way out of your league._

Castiel doesn’t think Dean has even met Jessica Moore that many times, at least not in person. But he sings her praises in every letter he writes. A part of him thinks Dean like Jessica so much because of how happy she made Sam. Sam comes back just then and gives him a quick half-smile. Castiel thinks he should return it but his face just doesn’t move the way he wants it to. He gives up and goes back to reading the letter.

_Dad left again. We should probably just stop talking about him. I'm wasting ink to write the same things about him every time and I'm getting tired of it._

_Speaking of Dad, Cas met him a while back. We were at this diner and he just walked right in, said he was passing by again. He and dad didn't exactly hit it off, but maybe they'll get a chance to work on that another time. Dad was being an ass, anyway. Asking for his last name when Cas didn't want to tell him. But he said it was Novak._

_Cas was with me a couple of days ago too. He was gonna work this vengeful spirit case with me, but then one of his brothers showed up and he disappeared. Not our kind of disappeared, like they went off to talk and he just never came back again. I have a feeling it's not anything good because Cas doesn't leave without saying bye. I sent him some texts, left him a voicemail. Hopefully, he'll hit me back. I'll keep you posted. But if he calls you, you tell me, okay?_

_I don't know. We don't meet a lot but the guy's growing on me. He's like a nerdy little dude. He's a lot like us when I think about it. Like a soldier. He might be my best friend. Sorry that Cas is cooler than you, bro._

_The case went well, either way. When he was here, it has to be the hardest I've laughed in a while. Even Cas couldn't stop smiling._

Castiel... smiled? He pauses and frowns, trying to rack his brain to remember. He tries and tries. He imagines a police precinct in complete chaos like Dean describes, imagines his face on an FBI identification card. Nothing comes to mind and it frustrates him to no end. He wished he could remember what it felt like to smile.

_We went to the police as FBI to investigate but Bobby didn't pick up the fake FBI phone so they arrested us. Then Cas did something and busted us out of the holding cell. It was complete chaos. So fun, I wish you were there to see it. Maybe if you come on to a case with us, we can get arrested so Cas will have to do it._

_Anyway, let me know when you're free. I really want to come to see you and Jess again. Maybe Cas will have come back by then and we can have a little reunion._

That’s the last letter sent by Dean to Sam, so Castiel returns it to him with a thank you before he flies away.

* * *

**[March 24, 2006, 7:41PM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Can I talk to you?  
**Dean Winchester:** At Bobby’s. With Baby.  
**Dean Winchester:** Just realized you probably don’t know who Baby is. My car.

Castiel is there in an instant, now with a newfound determination to get them on good terms. Dean turns, surprised to see him there so quickly, but he starts, “You talked to Sam today. About Jess?”

“Not a lot,” Castiel says. “I only offered my condolences.”

Dean nods, looking at his shoes. They’re a little worn and Castiel wonders why Dean doesn’t just get new ones. He’s sure the patterns on the soles are smoothed over by now. He says, “He showed you my letters.”

“Yes,” Castiel affirms. He supposes that if he wants to ensure mutual trust, he should be transparent. There’s no need to lie about this either way, so he doesn’t bother.

“Well?” Dean asks. “What did you think?”

“John Winchester is many things, but his inability to stay is not your fault,” Castiel says. Dean stares at him, not expecting that.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “I don’t know about that, but thanks.”

“And Jessica Moore sounded lovely,” Castiel says. He can’t seem to stop talking now. “My apologies for your mother and Jessica, and your father. My — I’m sorry that I still don’t remember anything. I’m sorry for my behavior for the past few weeks. I’m sorry for what happened at Akobel’s house. I’m sorry.”

Dean seems a little startled, his soul stiff with surprise, but he reaches a hand out to touch Castiel’s shoulder. It feels grounding.

“Cas. It’s okay,” he says firmly. “All good. Forgiven.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Castiel can’t stop saying it.

If he says it enough, maybe he’ll finally think it made up for everyone he has ever failed. He’s failed Heaven, failed God, failed his fellow angels, failed his Father’s creations, somehow failed Jessica Moore and Mary Winchester and he has failed Dean more times than he wants to admit.

“All good,” Dean repeats. “Cas. Seriously. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says once more, and then he disappears into thin air.


	10. Some Other Guy

_I forget how emotions dance when they aren’t inside of me._   
_I forget how the sun feels when she isn’t around me._   
_And my dreams become sweeter when something is missing._   
**AURORA**

**April 4, 2006**

The first thing Sam and Dean want to do is apparently not find a way out of the battle with Heaven, but find their father and get on his path of finding their mother’s murderer. Castiel questions their priorities but says nothing. Relations are strained enough without Castiel making it worse and he’d long grown tired of rallying against them.

Sam tries to get a start on it by tracking John Winchester’s phone on his laptop but when it comes to a moot point, he decides that it’s time to employ some higher means. By that, he means a professional.

Charlie Bradbury is a tech support employee for a small start-up video game company. Sam knew her from the library he often visited when he was still at Stanford when he went to pick up old transcripts of court cases to study and she was there doing God knows what on the public computers. Tracking her proved to be difficult since she had gone by a different name when Sam knew her but eventually he found her.

“You’re sure we need her help?” Dean asks as he, Castiel and Sam all pile into the Impala, Dean in the driver’s seat, of course. Castiel takes the backseats alone.

“She’s good at this kind of thing,” Sam says, trying to get Dean to see his side. “If anyone can find Dad, it’s her.”

Dean mutters, turning the ignition, “You’d think hunters would be good at finding things.”

They go anyway, Castiel not saying a word the entire way. Dean glances at him sometimes with the mirror, but Castiel always turns away when he does and busies himself with what’s passing the car windows. With Dean’s permission and supervision, he had engraved the bottom of the Impala with Enochian warding sigils, just so the angels won’t be able to find their car either. Castiel promised to restore the car’s previous condition when the war with Heaven is resolved.

They slow to a stop outside an internet cafe. The sign is a little unhinged and rusting at the edges, and the windows look so filthy that Castiel is tempted to clean it himself.

Dean notices Castiel’s irritation and asks Sam, “She’s in there?”

“As far as I know,” Sam nods. He pushes open the door and holds it open for Dean and Castiel as they enter the cafe. Among the mass of men who look like they’ve been there for days, there’s a redhead woman near the back, donning a bright blue jacket and body swaying with the music on her earphones.

Castiel knows this woman. He can’t remember where from, but he knows this woman.

“Charlie,” Sam calls out. He whispers to Dean and Castiel, “She used to be Carrie.”

“What, like Carrie Fisher?” Dean asks, raising an eyebrow with a faint smile on his face.

Sam shrugs, “She likes Star Wars, but I’m pretty sure it’s Carrie White.”

“Who?” Dean frowns.

“Stephen King,” Castiel fills in. Before Dean can respond, Charlie is already making her way to them with a bright bubbly grin. She brings Sam into a hug instantly and he has to bend down slightly to let her arms come around his neck.

Her soul is a radiant yellow with specks of purple and red. A joyful woman with passion and secrets. She greets, “Sam, it’s so good to see you! How’s Jess?”

Sam freezes up at the mention of her name and Dean catches it, smoothly stepping in and holding out a hand for Charlie towards her. “Hi, I’m Dean, Sam’s older brother.”

Charlie shakes his hand, nodding, “He mentioned you! And what about you?” The question is directed to Castiel and he answers accordingly.

“Castiel,” he says.

At her questioning look, Dean fills in, “He’s my friend, that’s why Sam never mentioned him.” Charlie nods again and turns to Sam.

“So, what did you want to ask me about?” she asks.

Sam glances towards the Impala, “Can we talk in the car?”

* * *

“You want me to track down your dad?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Sam says. Sam and Charlie are in the backseat, leaving Dean in driver and Castiel in the passenger. “Can you do it?”

“Sure,” Charlie nods, already opening her laptop and asking for John’s phone details that Sam gives over. When they’re busy, Castiel opens the door and gets out.

For some reason, he didn’t expect it to happen, but Dean follows him out. “You good?”

“I know her,” Castiel says, frowning. “Charlie Bradbury. I have seen her before.”

Dean moves over to stand with Castiel at his side of the car and leans against the door next to him, suggesting, “Maybe she’s got one of those faces, you know —“

“I can’t see faces,” Castiel denies, shaking his head. “I’ve seen that soul before.”

“You see _souls_?” Dean asks, interested.

Castiel nods, slightly impatient, “Yes. I don’t know how you look like but that’s not of import right now. I don’t know when I saw her. I know I have.”

Dean tries again, “Maybe... Maybe it’s part of your brainwashing. Someone made you forget but you did see her.”

“But why?” Castiel mumbles, looking back at the car.

Dean places a reassuring hand on Castiel’s shoulder, saying, “Hey. Cas. We’ll figure it out, okay? If Sam trusts her, she can’t be all that bad.”

“Alright,” Castiel relents. He thinks for a moment before turning to face Dean, “Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Dean asks, frowning in concern.

Castiel elaborates, “I cannot keep... I cannot live without knowing what I’ve done, what I’ve gone through. There are so many pockets of time I no longer remember and since realising that, it has done nothing but torture me. I need to know, Dean. Without my memories, I don’t know who I am. I don’t...” He cuts himself off.

Castiel, in complete honesty, didn’t like himself.

He used to and now he doesn’t. He liked himself when he knew who he was, a loyal soldier of God’s and perfect angel. Albeit disliked by and disappointing to his superiors, he at least knew that he was, on some level, a satisfactory angel. He liked himself.

And then Dean came along and he began to feel. A chill down his spine, tingling in his fingertips, an ache in his heart. Realising he doesn’t remember so much of his life and losing a grip on what he thought he knew about himself. He hates himself for that. He hates himself so much. He knew nothing about himself and is no longer sure of anything.

The only thing Castiel is sure of is Dean Winchester.

Maybe the reason why Castiel has begun changing since meeting him is that Dean is the answer to all of this. Maybe if he sticks around long enough, Dean will give him the solution and he will know who he was always meant to be.

“Cas,” Dean snaps his fingers in front of his face. “You spaced out.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel murmurs.

“We’ll get you your memories back,” Dean says. “Promise. Even if it’s the last thing I’ll ever do. You’ll get them back.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says, managing a faint smile. It’s there though unclear, and it feels strange despite it being so small, but it gets Dean smiling with an exciting green, so Castiel takes that as a victory.

Sam leans to the window and knocks on it, gesturing to them to come back into the car. Dean gives Castiel a last look; _You good?_

Castiel nods; _I’m good._

Once they’re back in the Impala, Charlie rattles off, “Okay, so I tracked down your dad’s phone. Last tracked location is some seedy bar in San Francisco, I already wrote the address down for Sam. I got you a list of where he’s been previously, that’s also with Sam. He travels a lot.”

“No kidding,” Sam mumbles, handing the lists over for Dean to see.

Charlie closes her laptop and says, “Well, if there’s nothing else, I think I’ll take my leave, boys.”

“Wait,” Castiel turns in his seat to look at her. “Have we met?”

Charlie glances up in thought, “Coming up empty here, Castiel. Sorry, I’ve never seen you before.”

“That’s alright,” Castiel says, resigned. “Thank you.”

“No problem-o,” Charlie nods, opening the door. “See ya, bitches.”

Once she’s gone, Dean lifts the note with the address, asking, “San Fran?”

“Will he even still be there?” Sam points out. “We don’t exactly stay in one place too long and it’s not like San Fran is just the next city over.”

“Worth the shot,” Dean shrugs. “Finding Dad means finding whatever killed Mom and... you know.” He feels like it’s still too soon to say Jessica’s name.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sam finally nods. “Let’s go, then. Cas, you have anywhere to be?”

“Unfortunately,” Castiel nods slowly. “I have duties. I have to take my leave.”

Dean seems a little disappointed, “Okay. We’ll see you when we do.”

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel says. “Let me know how it goes.” With that, Castiel flies away. He would have helped them search for John. In fact, he could probably find him in just a matter of seconds. But he didn’t know if the retrieval of John would disrupt any of Heaven’s regular business since he’s tied so closely to the Winchester brothers. It’s better to let it run its course.

But he did wish he could stay there with Dean.

**April 10, 2006**

**[April 10, 2006, 1:28 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** Didn’t find him.

 **[April 10, 2006, 1:41 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** I’m sorry. I wish I could help.

 **[April 10, 2006, 1:45 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** Hey, all good.  
 **Dean Winchester:** You free?

That’s how Castiel ends up in the passenger seat of Dean’s Impala.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greets. “How are you?” He adds, like an afterthought, “And Sam.”

Dean casts a quick smile to him before redirecting his attention to the road, “Don't bother, Sam's asleep. We’re alright. We didn’t find Dad but we have plenty of other chances to find him.”

“Indeed,” Castiel agrees while Dean continues driving, the sound of quiet AC/DC playing with Sam's snores in the backseat. They don’t really stop anywhere, just for about half an hour in a small diner, where Castiel watches Dean wolf down a cheeseburger.

“Slow down,” Castiel mutters. “You’ll choke.”

“It’s food, man. Worth it,” Dean says, words trying to find a way around the food in his mouth. Castiel tries to think of something to say but comes up empty.

Instead, he finds himself smiling — it’s small and feels odd on his face. He’s not used to doing it but Dean says it looks good on him so Castiel tries to smile wider. It makes Dean laugh, and suddenly the smile feels natural like it belongs.

“Said it before and I’ll say it again,” Dean grins, looking down at his burger. “Don’t know why your Father ever wanted you to hide a smile like that.”

“It’s technically not mine,” Castiel shrugs. “It’s my vessel’s.”

“You’re the one smiling right now. As far as I’m concerned, that’s all you,” Dean insists. “You’ve got a great smile, Cas.”

Castiel finally relents, “Thank you, Dean. I wish I can say the same.”

Dean finishes up the burger and crumples the wrapper in his hands. He leaves it on the table and leans forward, folding his arms. “So, you said that time that you can’t see faces. You see souls.”

“That’s correct.”

“What do I look like?” Dean asks, cheeky red glowing in his soul.

“You look exquisite,” Castiel says honestly. He describes, hoping his words do Dean’s soul justice, “You’re very light, mostly green and blue. It’s almost like looking at Earth, but if everything was a more gentle shade. The colours blend together like brush strokes on a canvas. The blues get darker when you’re upset, and there’s a lovely yellow in the green when you’re happy. I’ve seen many souls in my life and though I don’t remember many of them... I’m sure yours is the most beautiful one I will ever get to see.”

Dean is speechless for a few moments, fingers toying with the wrapper. He finally says, “Wow.”

Castiel looks down at his hands.

“Wow,” Dean says again. “I wanna see that.”

“Maybe someday,” Castiel says. “I can’t exactly take a photograph for you.”

“How does _your_ real form look like?” Dean asks.

Castiel replies, “My true form is approximately the size of your Chrysler building.”

Dean’s eyes widen and he nods slowly, “Holy shit.”

“Well, that’s me,” Castiel says simply.

Dean stares at him before saying, “You probably know this already but since you were practically waxing poetic, I guess I should return the favour.” Before Castiel can question what he means by that, Dean goes off, “Your hair always looks like you stumbled through some bushes before arriving, but it looks kind of good messy. I think I should show you how to do your hair properly, though. It’s a nice black, it turns brown under the sun. And your eyes look like the ocean. Or like, a diamond. I don’t know. You have a very nice smile. They really don’t call you an angel for nothing.”

Castiel is stunned — yes, Dean is basically just describing Jimmy Novak, but it felt like every word belonged to him, still.

“So, that’s you,” Dean grins.

 _So, that’s me_ , Castiel thinks absently, only able to stare silently at Dean.

“You alright, man?” Dean teases. “You went quiet there.”

“I’ve never been better,” Castiel answers honestly.

**April 30, 2006**

Castiel finds himself at a playground in Neighbour, Michigan, sitting on a bench alone. Dean had asked him to be there but didn’t clarify as to why. He’s not even there.

There are a mother and a young child there. The boy’s soul glowed with a unique energy, and he is bright blue with intelligence and dark red ambition. It looks familiar. He’s playing with a soccer ball while his mother reads the paper. The ball bounces a little too much and rolls up to Castiel’s leg. He uses his foot to stop it and the boy runs over to get it back from him.

“Thank you, mister,” the boy says, retrieving the ball from Castiel.

“Do I know you?” Castiel asks, frowning. “I feel that I have seen you before. I’m sorry, I’ve been recognising people but I just don’t remember them.”

The boy tilts his head to the side as he introduces, extending his hand, “I’m Kevin if that helps.”

_Kevin. Prayers. Stillborn. Thank God you did that. Tessa the reaper._

“I know you,” Castiel realises. “You were stillborn.”

Kevin’s eyes widen in surprise, “Who are you?”

“I brought you back,” Castiel says slowly. It’s more to himself but Kevin catches it. “I resurrected you and that’s why I got...”

Kevin’s mouth falls open, “My mama always said an angel saved me. Mister, is that you?”

“I think so,” Castiel says, unsure.

Kevin waves to his mother, shouting, “Mama! I found the angel!”

She folds up the paper and walks over, possibly to apologise to Castiel for Kevin bothering him, but then she freezes and her hand covers her mouth. “You’re him.”

“Did I save your son?” Castiel asks, feeling like there’s snow weighing down his heart with cold nervousness.

“You did, I remember you,” she says, looking a mix of shock and relief. “Thank you, Castiel.”

 _That’s who Kevin is_ , Castiel thinks. _I saved him._

Kevin grins, “Thank you, mister.”

“You’re welcome,” Castiel says almost absently.

Once Kevin and his mother have said their thank yous and went off in high spirits, Castiel sees someone sit down next to him in his peripheral vision.

“You were really torn up about not remembering your history,” Dean starts. “So, I went through the papers for the past couple of years. Tried to find anything that’s just too much of a miracle to be a normal thing. Then I found an article of a stillborn kid where the parents — the Trans — they said an angel called Castiel just came in, touched their son Kevin and suddenly he was alive and kicking. The paper said they live in Neighbour, Michigan, so I asked you to come here.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says sincerely. “Truly. I... I cannot tell you how much this means to me. I saved Kevin.”

“That you did, Cas,” Dean smiles, putting an arm around Castiel’s shoulder. “Ain’t that a miracle?”


	11. The Song Remains The Same

_Sometimes, the thing you’ve been looking for your whole life is right there beside you all along._  
**Guardians of the Galaxy, Vol. 2**

**May 7, 2006**

_Dear Cas,_

_I don’t really have a point in writing this. I just felt like writing something to you. Sam’s asleep in the backseat and I’m trying to get to sleep too, but I can’t. Too much on my mind._

_I’ve been up the past 45 minutes trying to figure out this crossword in a paper from 2 weeks ago but I’m not getting anywhere on number three. The hint is some bullshit like “I am the Eggman.” What the hell is that supposed to be? The theme is old songs but nothing is coming to me. I gave up. If you know it, tell me._

_We’re not getting any closer to finding Dad or the killer. Dad just keeps moving on by the time we think we’ve got a lead on him. It’s almost like he knows we’re catching up and he just wants to stay away. Sam thinks we should stop following him and just focus on Jess and Mom’s killer, but I insisted that both Dad and the killer are on the same trail so we might as well search for Dad and find the guy as a family. Hey, look, I’m the voice of reason for once._

_Sam’s still a complete wreck but I don’t blame him. He really loved her. Can angels love? Stupid question, but I guess I’m just a little curious. I don’t think I’ve ever really loved someone._

_Actually, I’m not sure. I th_

_It’s stupid. Never mind. Okay, the sleep’s finally getting to me. Sam’s snoring is annoying too._

_Have fun not sleeping._

_Dean_

**May 16, 2006**

[Found stuck to the Impala’s dashboard, on a green sticky note]

_1\. Hint #3: I Am The Walrus, by The Beatles._  
_2\. I cannot offer any advice, Heaven doesn’t tell me much. I’m sorry._  
_3\. I think, with effort and time. And maybe a little bit of free will, we can. And maybe the right person._

_Castiel._

**May 23, 2006**

Castiel follows a prayer sent directly to him by Samandriel, coming from an abandoned warehouse in Lebanon. When he reaches, it’s surprising to see Bartholomew there as well. He and Bartholomew aren’t exactly on great terms, if on any terms at all.

“Why did you call me here?” Castiel asks.

“What’s going on, Castiel?” Samandriel asks. “You’re always missing, Heaven can’t find the Winchesters —“

Bartholomew interrupts, cutting right to the chase, “You’re hiding them, aren’t you?”

Castiel nods once, barely noticeable, but they catch it.

“You’re helping them?” Samandriel asks, bewildered.

Castiel defends, “You have to understand... I don’t do this because I’m bored, or because I want to, I did it because it’s what we’ve always been tasked to do. And God asked us to protect his creations and—“

“God is dead!” Bartholomew explodes. “God is _dead_ , Castiel! There is no point! Why don’t you get it, why can’t you just move on? He’s gone. He doesn't care.”

Castiel can’t believe how quick the other angels were to give up their faith in their Father. He says, “Maybe God —“

“ _Shut up_. You’ve always been this annoyingly righteous angel. Enough,” Samandriel says. Castiel feels something break in him. His heart. He thought Samandriel was his brother, his friend. “If you won’t listen to reason, then perhaps force will prove to be a better explanation.”

Bartholomew’s angel blade falls out of his sleeve and Castiel and Samandriel’s quickly follow. Both angels lunge at Castiel and he moves quickly to the side, getting nicked across the cheek by Samandriel. He hisses and touches the cut to assess the damage. It’s not deep and at least his vessel is not bleeding much from it. He tries to stab Bartholomew but his angel blade blocks the hit. Samandriel comes up behind him and brings him into a chokehold, turning him to leave him open for Bartholomew to hit.

“I only wish it didn’t have to end this way, Castiel,” Bartholomew says. “I actually quite liked you.”

“Stop talking,” Castiel mutters, struggling against Samandriel’s hold. “This is unnecessary.”

“Don’t talk to us about unnecessary,” Samandriel says, voice tight with the effort from restraining Castiel. His voice is annoying when it’s this close to his ear. “You’ve been cozying up with that Winchester boy. Which one was it?”

“Dean Winchester,” Bartholomew grins. Castiel hates this side of his brothers. “What’s so special about him, Castiel? What about him is so worth saving?”

Castiel grits his teeth and uses all his weight and strength to shove both himself and Samandriel onto their sides. He rolls over to use his knee to keep Samandriel down, holding his angel blade to his neck. Samandriel lifts his hands and drops his angel blade.

Bartholomew insults, venom on his tongue, “You are insane.”

“Maybe I am,” Castiel replies, feeling the tip of his angel blade slowly slicing through Samandriel’s throat. “What are you going to do about it?”

“All this for _one_ _human_ , Castiel!” Samandriel argues from under him. “You are an _angel_! You are one of the most powerful beings in the universe! Why are we even fighting? Just come home.”

“It’s too late for me,” Castiel says quietly, stabbing Samandriel in the chest as he shuts his eyes, unable to look. He hears Samandriel scream, sees the light through his eyelids until both drown out into a burned-out vessel. Bartholomew stares at him, horrified, and Castiel looks absently at the black wing burns on the ground.

He shakes his head, “You’ve gone too far. Dean Winchester is... He did this to you! Castiel, this isn’t right.”

“And yet,” Castiel barely smiles. “It’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Bartholomew charges at him, infuriated and upset, and Castiel greets him with the same drive. Their angel blades knock one another away and when both fall to the ground, they settle for hand-to-hand combat.

Castiel punches him hard enough that he stumbles back into the wall, but Bartholomew rebounds and rams Castiel into a table with a broken leg, grabbing a fistful of his left wing and crushing his fist. Castiel shouts out in pain and Bartholomew grabs his shirt, throwing him into a pile of crates that are so rotted through that they break at contact.

Castiel picks himself up, wincing, and lunges for Bartholomew again, shoving him up against the wall opposite him as he punches Bartholomew. He keeps punching and punching until his arm is tired and he slows to a stop. Bartholomew’s vessel’s face is bloody and Castiel has the stained knuckles to show for it.

Bartholomew takes the opportunity to tackle Castiel to the ground and both wince when they land on top of Samandriel’s dead vessel. They unconsciously shift themselves so they’re a little further from Samandriel before Bartholomew smacks Castiel across the face, his fist leaving a ringing sound in Castiel’s ear. It doesn’t stay long, but it comes in his other ear when Bartholomew crosses his other cheek with his hand again.

“You’re a disappointment,” Bartholomew hisses, reaching over to retrieve Samandriel’s angel blade. He starts slicing down Castiel’s side and he flinches, trying to get out from under Bartholomew before he just plunges it right in and does something irreversible. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Castiel spat. “Let me go.”

“I should kill you right now,” Bartholomew says.

“Then why haven’t you? You obviously want to.”

Bartholomew presses the angel blade a little harder to Castiel’s skin and he inhales sharply at the pain. He knows there’s just a little bit of grace spilling out. Not enough to kill, but that could change with Bartholomew’s mood. “I don’t know, I think I’d like to wait. I’d rather keep you alive, make you watch as I kill Sam Winchester. But that probably wouldn’t hurt you that much. _Dean Winchester_ , though? That one, I suspect would hurt something _awful_ —“

Bartholomew doesn’t get to finish before Castiel’s fingers finally reach his dropped angel blade, shoving it into Bartholomew’s stomach. Bartholomew glows brightly and Castiel stares wide-eyed, watching the light fade as his vessel collapses on top of him.

Castiel shoves the vessel off and keeps his angel blade in his suit, looking down at his two dead brothers. He was never close to Bartholomew but Samandriel was a brother. Or, at least, he thought he was.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. He starts to fly away before he groans, hand grabbing his left shoulder. He forgot Bartholomew broke it. He takes a deep breath, bracing himself as he heads straight for Bobby’s house, praying to someone who isn’t around that Dean is there.

* * *

**[May 23, 2006, 2:29 AM]**  
**Bobby Singer:** Your boyfriend is here.

 **[May 23, 2006, 2:31 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Why’s Cas there?  
**Dean Winchester:** And he’s not my boyfriend.

 **[May 23, 2006, 2:32 AM]**  
**Bobby Singer:** He’s pretty banged up.  
**Bobby Singer:** Won’t let me take a look at it, though. Insists he wants to see you.

 **[May 23, 2006, 2:41 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** I’ll be there in 15.

“He’s on his way. He’ll be fifteen minutes,” Bobby says, putting his phone down. “What happened?”

“I had a disagreement with my brothers,” Castiel mumbles, hand rubbing mindlessly at his left shoulder. It’s not like Dean can help much with that, his human eyes can’t perceive angel wings and he can’t possibly heal what he can’t see.

Bobby stares at him a little while before asking, “Well, did you at least get a good lick in?”

Castiel manages a small smile, “I did.”

“Atta-boy,” Bobby says, looking out of the window. Castiel is a little happier that he and Bobby are getting to the point of friendship, or in the very least, amiable acquaintance. He knows his relationship with Bobby means something to Dean so he tries his best with the elder hunter. When the conversation dies there, Castiel lets it be. He doesn’t want to push his luck.

Eventually, they hear the sound of the Impala’s engine in front of Bobby’s house. Bobby lifts a hand towards Castiel, “Stay there, I’ll bring him in.” Castiel stays.

When Dean comes in, his soul is washed with alarming yellow and deep blue concern as he looks around. Bobby’s house is a mess — Castiel’s doing, his injured wing made it hard to fly right and he’d crashed rather ungracefully through Bobby’s front door. Dean rushes over to Castiel and cups his face, looking him over to assess the damage. His skin feels a little warm where Dean’s hands meet his cheeks, and Dean’s thumb lightly brushes over the small scrape on his cheek left by Samandriel. “Cas, what happened?”

“Angel fight,” Bobby explains. “Go clean him up. I’ve got the stuff laid out in the bathroom.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean says. “Sam’s in the car if you want to say hi. I’m probably gonna be a while.”

As Bobby leaves to talk to Sam, Dean helps Castiel up and to the bathroom, one arm around his shoulder and the other gripping his waist. He says conversationally, “You took a beatdown.”

“It’s not that bad,” Castiel mumbles.

Dean’s lip quirks up with a smile, “I should see the other guys, huh? Bet they’re worse.”

Castiel half-shrugs, “They won’t be getting up again.”

Dean sobers up slightly, “Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Castiel says. “I barely knew them.” He didn’t think he’d be this numb to their deaths, at least not this quickly, but obviously Dean’s safety ended up proving to be more important to him than Samandriel and Bartholomew.

Dean removes his hand from Castiel’s waist to open the door to the bathroom. Castiel sits on the closed toilet seat and Dean rests carefully on the edge of the bathtub. He opens up the first aid kit and says, flicking his finger upward, “Lift your shirt.”

He obeys, hands raising the shirt just enough for Dean to see his wound. Dean winces at it, going through the kit’s contents to fish out bandages. Samandriel’s angel blade had gone clean through and it’s certainly not doing Castiel any services.

Dean raises the roll of bandages in triumph and rests it on his lap. He gets the wet cloth and starts cleaning off dried blood. When he’s done, he wraps Castiel’s abdomen with the bandage. He can already see drops of crimson creeping through the cheap cloth. Dean nods to indicate that he’s done and Castiel lets his shirt drop back down into its original position. Dean shifts a little closer and raises the cloth again.

“I’m gonna clean up your face,” Dean informs him. Castiel nods absently.

Dean is careful and gentle and slow, making sure he doesn’t press too hard on his injuries. It doesn’t hurt that much, Castiel wants to tell him. Yes, they were inflicted by angel-killing weapons but they are shallow cuts on his face that only mildly sting at contact. He won’t pass out if Dean applies the wrong amount of pressure.

But Dean is concentrating, eyes connecting with Castiel’s every few seconds to check if he’s alright. As his right hand wipes off leftover blood, his left hand is free and his fingers settle on Castiel’s right cheekbone, holding him still so he can do his work. Castiel lets his hand stay there. It feels nice, the cool of Dean’s fingertips against the heat from the bruise forming on his cheek. He knows it’ll be gone by tomorrow. But Dean cares.

Castiel doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he just rests them on his own lap. He toys with the edges of his shirt.

“I’m gonna kill the sons of bitches,” Dean finally says. Castiel barely huffs out an unamused chuckle.

“I already beat you to that,” he says. “I also doubt you can take an angel on.”

“Hey, there’s still plenty more asshole angels, right? And there's a first time for everything,” Dean jokes. He turns away to clean the cloth and Castiel waits patiently for Dean to come back. He already misses the feel of Dean’s hand on his cheek. “But you’re doing good?”

Castiel smiles minutely, “Yes, Dean. I’m doing good.”

“Good,” Dean grins. He wrings the blood out of the cloth and the red liquid goes down the sink drain. “Anything new?”

“Nothing,” Castiel updates. “Heaven has been quiet since they can’t track you down anymore and they’re a bit easier on me since I myself cannot locate you, but I’ve made myself some enemies, angels who were perceptive enough to know I am the reason for your absences.”

Dean nods minutely, returning to his place on the edge of the tub, “So, they did this because...”

“I was trying to protect you,” Castiel fills in.

“Does it change anything?” Dean asks. “It’s not gonna be easy for you.”

“I don’t do things because they’re easy, Dean,” Castiel says. “I do things because they’re right.”

Dean smiles at that before he looks over Castiel, “Okay, where did I miss?”

“You got everything.”

“No, I didn’t. You’ve got that look,” Dean says, gesturing vaguely to his own face. “Where is it? Come on.”

“You won’t be able to help me,” Castiel says. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Bull _shit_ it doesn’t matter. Where?” Dean asks, trying to find it himself. He watches as Castiel rolls his shoulders, wincing as he does it, and black shadows of a pair of wings cast over the wall behind him. One shadow bends naturally against the wall and the other one looks like it’s almost snapped right through, crooked painfully as it trembles. A feather falls off.

“Wow,” Dean whispers.

Castiel says with a sad smile, “So, you see why you can’t help me.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Dean asks. “To make it easier for you, I mean. I saw Bobby’s living room, it looks like you’re not really in flying condition.”

Castiel shrugs, “I don’t think so, but thank you for offering.”

Dean absently reaches out as if to touch Castiel’s wings, even though his hands are empty. He can see the shadows move slightly though, so he has to be in the right area. “These are beautiful, Cas.”

“You can’t see them, Dean,” Castiel teases, chuckling.

“Well, yeah, but...” Dean trails off, moving his hand down the length of Castiel’s wing. Castiel can feel Dean’s fingers steadily move through the feathers of his right wing. It feels really nice and he wishes Dean could do that forever. If he could stop time right at this moment, he would. “I just know they are.”

“Maybe one day, you’ll be able to see them,” Castiel says. “Though highly unlikely.”

“A guy can dream,” Dean jokes. He releases Castiel’s wing and turns back to the first aid kid, rifling through the contents. “I can’t help with the wing, but maybe I can find something to make it a little easier on your shoulder, keep it stable.”

Castiel smiles, “That would be pleasant.” It’s a lot easier to smile when Dean is around. It’s like the walls in him just break down when Dean is there.

Dean comes up with more cloth bandages, held together by a small elastic clip with metal ends. He says, “This is the best option we’ve got, I think. I’ll just wrap up your shoulder so it’ll be still and obviously you can’t fly for a while.”

“That’s fine. I think I’ll just stay here,” Castiel says as Dean unclips the bandages. “If Bobby will allow me.”

“Of course he will. You’re our friend,” Dean grins. “And don’t tell him I told on him but the old man likes you. He thinks you’re actually not that bad.”

Castiel feels light at that. He’s taking so many steps in the right direction for once in his life that he feels like he has gotten further than flying could ever get him. “Will he let me ward the house? I didn’t do it the last few times I was here.”

“He’ll welcome you to do it. Seriously. Dude treats this place like a supernatural panic room. Just ask him and he’ll give you the go-ahead,” Dean says. He places the beginning of the bandage on Castiel’s left shoulder and instructs, “Hold it there. I’ll just be going around your chest and shoulder so it doesn’t fall apart.” Castiel nods and holds the bandage in place, letting Dean wrap his body with the bandages. Castiel looks down and smiles, barely holding in a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Dean asks, glancing up at him.

“I look like I came straight from Egypt,” Castiel says, using his spare hand to gesture at his body. He looks like a badly wrapped mummy. Dean looks him over and laughs, shaking his head.

Castiel laughs. It feels bubbly and his shoulders shake with it, but it feels good. It seems to make Dean grin wider, which just makes Castiel want to laugh more. He liked feeling like this. He wished it wasn’t so hard for him to feel, but it’s easier with Dean and he’s fine with that.

“Okay, and...” Dean takes the clip from the sink’s edge and secures the end of the bandage. “Done.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says gratefully.

“No problem,” Dean replies, closing the first aid kit and returning it to the mirror cabinet above the sink. “Sam and I are staying here tonight.”

“That’s good,” Castiel says.

Dean nods, continuing, “And Sammy’s been in a real grumpy mood lately because we’re not any closer to finding Jess’s killer, so I thought tomorrow we should take the day off. Relax. Grab some drinks, do all kinds of crazy shit we can’t normally do. You know, really carpe diem it up.”

“Carpet Damn,” Castiel says quietly. Dean stares at him in surprise before he breaks into a huge grin, laughing, and Castiel can’t help but follow.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles, smiling. “Carpet Damn.”

There’s a comfortable silence that settles between them until Dean breaks it, saying softly, “I still have your trench coat.”

“What?”

“Your trench coat,” Dean says, slightly louder. “It’s in my trunk. I kept it.”

“Why?” Castiel wonders out loud, tilting his head slightly in question.

Dean shrugs, leaning against the wall next to the door, “I don’t know. I guess I always thought that you’d come back to me. I just wanted you to have it back when you did.” After a hesitant pause, he asks, “Do you want it back?”

Castiel thinks for a moment before he finally nods, smiling, “I would like to have it back, please.”

Dean starts grinning at that, already leaving the bathroom to retrieve it, and Castiel realizes why he kept it in the first place.

Dean.


	12. Dean In The Sky With Diamonds

_They’re calling off the war on account of losing track of what we’re fighting for._   
**Sleeping At Last**

**June 3, 2006**

There is something so beautifully emotional and raw about Earth’s tunes that nothing in Heaven could ever replicate. Castiel loved music. He didn’t particularly care for the genre, he just liked melodies in general. Pop, alternative, rock and so on. Though, he had a special place in his metaphorical heart for classical music. He loved how it conveyed everything and nothing at all.

The only things consistent in Dean’s life is Sam, moving, and music, specifically of the classic rock variety. He’s fairly picky with the songs they play on the radio, so he makes his own tapes to stick in the Impala’s player. Sam likes pop music sometimes, but there’s a rule of “driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole”, so that’s an argument Sam never wins.

Castiel has been in Bobby’s house for over a week. Dean left a few of his tapes behind with him to keep him company whenever he and Sam are out for a few days following a lead or a regular case. He listens to Dean's music -- it's mostly the discography of classic rock bands like Led Zeppelin's _Led Zeppelin III_ , a band and album that Castiel has quickly familiarised himself with since Dean likes them so much. There's also AC/DC's _Highway to Hell_ and Def Leppard's _Pyromania_. Dean also left some less hard-hitting music in case Castiel wants to switch it up; The Beatles' _White Album_ and ABBA's _Voulez-Vous_.

At the moment, Castiel has taken a liking to The Beatles. He liked _Blackbird_ from the _White Album_. The lyrics faintly reminded Castiel of himself.

_Take these sunken eyes and learn to see._   
_All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free._

Bobby listens to the music when Castiel plays the tapes and he tells him about the bands or the songs if there’s a meaning behind them. The Beatles is apparently one of the most famed bands of all time. Bobby even gifts him an old Beatles tape he no longer listens to, for him to take on the road with him when he has to leave. _  
_

His wing has been healing steadily since Dean patched him up. The bandaging on his shoulder doesn't do much for the actual ache in his wing, but it did help keep him from moving too much and worsening the injury. He didn't need Dean's help with most of the injuries and the one he actually needed help with, Dean can't get to. He just wanted to see Dean, though he didn't know why. He did feel much better when he saw Dean's soul come through the door.

By now, the cut on his cheek has long healed back to flawless skin and the wound in his side has faded as well. The only thing left is just his wing, but it's close to being in flying condition. Castiel is sure he can start flying again later today.

When Sam and Dean aren't around, Bobby offers to cook him something and Castiel has to explain why he refuses to eat. He tells him he despises the taste of molecules and finds it peculiar that some angels do like it. Bobby rolls his eyes but doesn't push it either. When Sam and Dean return to Bobby's house, Dean always comes straight to him to ask him how he's healing. Since the time Castiel helped Dean with a crossword when he couldn't sleep, Dean has taken it as a way of bonding. He takes the crosswords out of the newspaper and does it, then comes to him a few hours later for answers to his blanks. Castiel supplies the answers easily. He likes seeing how happy Dean's soul gets when he completes a crossword. Sometimes, Castiel does the crosswords himself, and Bobby has made a hobby out of watching Castiel get busy with the occasional sudoku puzzles and Sunday comic strips.

Eventually, his wing is fine and he readies himself to leave to go back to Heaven and report in for duty. He doesn't know if anyone is aware of Bartholomew and Samandriel's deaths yet or who the perpetrator is, but he hopes for his and Dean's sakes that nobody knows it's his doing.

They'd eventually decided to leave Bobby's house not warded after a discussion between Bobby and Castiel. Bobby thought that it defeats the whole point of them making his house their safe house if Castiel can't even enter. He insists that Castiel is now family, which makes Castiel feel happy inside. He never really had a family before, but Bobby Singer and the Winchester brothers seem to have become that.

He didn't know if Dean fell into the family category or not. He felt like the protectiveness he felt over him is entirely different to the degree of what he felt over Bobby and Sam, like classifying them together is just lying to himself. He doesn't exactly know what he would be lying to himself about. The thought of this just washes him in a deep, concerning grey. If he were human, he'd simply be confused. Castiel is rarely not confused these days.

Castiel pulls the trench coat over his shoulders and looks at himself in the mirror. It fits over him perfectly, obviously, and he likes the way the material feels where it brushes on his wrist over the normal suit. Now that he's here and he's wearing the coat, he feels like he finally knows why he wore it. He just hated that he stopped, but thankful that Dean kept it for him. He fishes into the pocket and pulls out the crumpled note, fraying a little white on the folds where it's been folded and unfolded so many times.

'Password'.

"Hey, you clean up nice," Dean smiles easily as he walks into the room. "You getting ready to go?"

"Yes," Castiel nods once. "Thank you for letting me recover here."

"You fought your own people for me, man. Why wouldn't I?" Dean smiles. It's soft, and a little bit unlike the other smiles Dean has sent his way, but it sparks something warm in Castiel's chest and he finds that the feeling is so pleasant. "Where are you going from here?"

Castiel thinks aloud, "Bartholomew and Samandriel kept insisting that God is dead, but I don't believe that he's... No. I am going to find God."

Dean's eyes widen a little at that, "Okay, you know how to go about that?"

Castiel points at the amulet around Dean's neck and says, "That's supposed to glow if God is nearby."

Dean instantly removes the amulet, pulling the black cord over his head and holding it out to Castiel. Sam had given it to him as a Christmas present when they were still young when John failed to stick around for the holiday. Though originally meant for John, Dean treasured the amulet. It's like bringing a piece of Sam with him, no matter how far they ever were from each other. He says, "Bring it back to me, okay? This is important."

"Of course, Dean," Castiel promises. "I'll keep it safe."

"Then go find God," Dean smiles. "Happy trails, Cas."

"You too," Castiel says, smoothing his hands over the sides of his trench coat one more time. "Let me know if you need me. I'll come right away."

Dean grins and waves once, "I'll see you when I do."

**June 12, 2006**

[Found held to Bobby’s fridge with a magnet of a blue bottle cap, on a ripped out spiral notebook sheet]

_C:_

_We're gonna be focussing on finding Dad and Mom and Jess's killer since you don't have any news from Heaven if that's okay. If you need to, you can call us. Let me know if there are any updates. Just letting you know that we'll be busy._

_D.W._

_P.S. Couldn't sleep again last night. Need help w/ #9. It’s insane, 4 themes! The hint is: Father of King Hadad, Genesis 36:35_

**June 16, 2006**

[Found stuck on Bobby’s front window, on a green sticky note]

_Dean,_

_Alright. I will call you when I have more information. Until then, best of luck on your search. Message me for help. I'm yours if you want me._

_Castiel_

_P.S. Bedad._

**June 25, 2006**

“Pretty. So pretty.”

“Indeed,” Castiel agrees quietly. He is in his heaven, the first time in a while. He’d been avoiding it since the time Ishim asked him if he knew Dean Winchester because none of it made sense to him. Now that he's finding some semblance of who he used to be (and perhaps, who he was always meant to be), he finally gets it. The way the autistic man enjoys the light breeze and the cool air caresses his skin. The way the sunlight hit just right and the grass is soft beneath his feet, and the water sparkles beautifully under the sun. The way the man smiles. Castiel gets it.

"It's Tuesday," the man says to himself.

"In 1953," Castiel replies, and it feels right. Like he has been doing this every time he comes here. There is something about his heaven that seems different than the last time he was here, however, and Castiel quickly realizes that the difference is a small note in the man's hand. As far as Castiel racks his brain to remember every detail of his last visit, he doesn't recall the man ever holding a piece of paper. Castiel leans over his shoulder to read what it says. It's just 'Dear Cas' written in all caps in what Castiel recognizes as Dean's handwriting. It's on a green sticky note, like the ones Castiel uses to leave notes for Dean because the shade of it reminds him of the greens in Dean's soul. Despite all this, he doesn't exactly know why this note has made an appearance in his heaven.

"Castiel," he hears Inias's voice say from behind him. "I need to talk to you."

"Inias, what are you doing here?" Castiel asks, turning to face his friend.

Inias starts, "I heard about Bartholomew and Samandriel."

"It's terrible," Castiel says. Even he can hear how plastic his voice sounds.

Inias says, trying to sound as non-judgemental as he can, "I know it was you." That gets Castiel's attention, but before he can even begin coming up with a defense, Inias continues, "Don't say anything. Let me talk. Listen, Castiel. We've served in the same garrison. I know you. You wouldn't kill them if you didn't have a reason. Right?"

Castiel nods steadily. "Where are you going with this?"

"Just talk to me. Why did you do that?" Inias asks.

" _Because_. Because everything is going wrong. Up here, down there," Castiel starts going. "With _me_. They insisted God was dead and that protecting the Winchesters is unnecessary --"

"You're protecting the Winchesters?" Inias cuts in, surprised.

Castiel almost rolls his eyes. _Huh, that's new._ He's never wanted to do that, it's just so human. "Look, Inias. If you're going to berate me, don't even start --"

"I'm not going to berate you, Castiel," Inias assures. "But why are you doing that?"

"Do you even know why Heaven is interested in them?" Castiel asks. When Inias shakes his head, Castiel explains, "It's because they want to destroy their souls. Eviscerate them completely to use them to purely serve as vessels Good and Evil. No human can be only one of either."

"So two humans get sacrificed to house cosmic beings. Why do you care that much?" Inias questions.

"Because God wanted us to protect humans!" Castiel says, disbelieving. Is he the only angel who remembers what their Father wanted them to do? "Because I am a good angel." He's sure, more than anything, that that's just him trying to convince himself.

Inias presses his lips together in thought. "Castiel --"

"No, I cannot do this anymore. I refuse to keep doing things when I don't think it's right. Sam and Dean are good men and they don't deserve to die. Not like this," Castiel argues as Inias listens to him silently. "Think whatever you will about me. I know what the other angels' opinions of me are. I'm a disappointment, I'm the angel with the failing memory, I'm overly righteous, I'm foolish, I'm 'going soft'. And yes, maybe I am all of those things, but I refuse to be the angel that can't stand for what he believes in."

Inias replies quietly, "Castiel, I was only going to say that you have a point."

"What?" Castiel blinks in surprise.

"You have a point," Inias repeats, this time a little louder. "I agree with you. I think Heaven's gotten corrupted. Angels acting like they run the place while Father is gone, it just doesn't sit right with me."

Castiel tilts his head, frowning, "So what are you saying?"

"I'm at your service," Inias finally says. "If God isn't around and I have to serve someone, I'll gladly serve you. At least I know I'll be on the right side of things."

Castiel falls into silence. He hadn't expected Inias to promise loyalty. He feels a little guilty for thinking Inias would try and sell him out to his superiors. He doesn't know what they'd do if they found out he was the one who killed Bartholomew and Samandriel over the Winchesters, but he's sure that it will only lead to him losing even more memories than he already has and he's not eager to forget Dean Winchester once again.

"Thank you, Inias," Castiel says. "Your support means a lot to me."

"Don't worry about it," Inias says dismissively, giving him a small smile. "You have a soft spot for that Dean Winchester, don't you?"

Castiel doesn't respond to that. He doesn't know how to -- a soft spot for Dean Winchester? In particular, Dean? Not Sam or Bobby too? What did Inias mean? The same feeling of barbed wire around his throat that he's learned means that he's anxious. Over what, he's again unsure.

Inias takes his silence as a cue to change the topic, and he notifies him, "Akobel is dead. And May Sunders."

"What?" Castiel's head snaps to him instantly.

Inias exhales heavily, "Mirabel and Benjamin found them after the Winchesters stopped you from going after them. Killed the Nephilim and Akobel, but the human Lily got away." After a pause that's uncomfortable even for Castiel, Inias adds, "I know you and Akobel were fairly close. You both always had an affinity for humanity."

"An affinity for humanity?" Castiel repeats in confusion.

"Yes, the two of you are quite similar, actually," Inias says, nodding minutely to himself. "You know, Akobel had a human that he was willing to give up everything for, Lily Sunders. And now you've got Dean Winchester."

Castiel isn't sure if Inias understands that Akobel and Lily is a completely different situation from him and Dean. For one, he and Dean aren't romantically in love and for two, they don't have a Nephilim child that could destroy the galaxy as it is. Akobel was in love with Lily and he gave up being an angel for her. Castiel doesn't think he and Dean remotely fall into the same category. He still says, "I suppose."

Inias says, "Just trying to say that I get where you're coming from and I support it. I know Dean means something to you, he's special. I know and I'm fine with it." Castiel is beginning to doubt that he and Inias have the same opinions over his relationship with Dean. "You're my friend and Dean's your human. As far as I'm concerned, that means Dean is under my protection too."

"Thank you," Castiel says again.

Inias nods and looks out at the view. "That note in his hands. I don't remember that being there before."

"Neither do I," Castiel mutters. "It says 'Dear Cas'."

Inias frowns in a thoughtful manner, cocking his head to the side as he stares at the autistic man's hands, his fingers playing with the edges of the sticky note. There's a little weak glue residue on his fingertips. "Who wrote it?"

"According to the handwriting, Dean did," Castiel answers.

Inias's expression instantly looks enlightened. "That makes sense."

"What do you even mean?" Castiel's eyebrows knit together as he asks the question, floored by Inias's implications of Dean and his relationship the whole time they've been talking.

"You know what I mean," Inias smiles. It's knowing, and Castiel decides that he hates it since he doesn't even know what Inias is talking about. "I need to go. I'm with you, Castiel. I'll see you soon."

He flies away, leaving Castiel alone in his heaven once again. Castiel shakes his head lightly, ignoring any remaining thoughts of his conversation with Inias and walking forward to the man. He takes off his trench coat, resting it on the shoulders of the man, and rolls up the ends of his pants. Once he's sure they won't tumble down, he sits down next to the man, dipping his feet into the top of the lake. The water is cool against his toes.

"Don't step on that fish," the man suddenly says. It surprises Castiel, almost. He's never stayed long enough to hear the man say this. At least, not that he recalls. "Big plans for that fish."

Castiel bends to look into the water, trying to see if there's any fish in the lake. There's one, just a small one. A Chromis Viridis. They don't commonly turn up in a lake, not so close to the edge as Castiel thinks. It must be yet another part of himself leaking into the man's memory. The fish is a light blue color and the scales have a shiny green reflection. It, again, reminds Castiel of Dean's soul, and he is only left wondering what's with the Dean fish and the Dean note.

"I see," Castiel replies. He moves his feet, slowed down by the water, and watches as the fish swims further away.

The man says, "It's a beautiful fish."

"Indeed it is," Castiel agrees. It looks like Dean.


	13. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da!

_It's in all of us to defy expectations... to be brave & to want, need, hunger for adventures. To embrace the chance & risk so that we may breathe and know what it is to be free._  
**Mae Chevrette**

**July 9, 2006**

Angels are supposed to remain unfeeling, devoid of emotion, lest it clouds their judgment. But Castiel, in all his 1050 feet of glory, just can’t seem to abstain from emotions.

Dean just made Castiel want to feel. Castiel always wanted to be a good soldier, serve God and do his duty. But Dean, a hunter with poor taste in flannel and deep love for classic rock music and in desperate need of some rest. Dean, who is flawed, and protective over those he loves, and is gentle when he heals. He makes Castiel want to feel everything. He wants to feel every emotion Dean can feel; love, anger, happiness, sadness, hatred. All of it.

A part of him does. When he’s with Dean, his hard shell cracks almost completely and light comes pouring out in warm streaks that lifts him up. He felt higher than the angels but is still too small to talk to God. No matter how free Dean makes him feel, he isn't.

Castiel is in his heaven once again. Since the discovery of the Dean fish and the sticky note, Castiel has found more traces of Dean all around. The autistic man's shirt, once a tattered merchandise shirt of Star Trek, is now a red flannel shirt Castiel is sure Dean has worn before. The Impala itself is there, with the same thirteen Led Zeppelin songs playing on a loop on its tinny radio. Castiel still isn't sure what to make of it, but he knows it's to do with himself and Dean's relationship. He's not sure where it is, given Inias's assumption of their closeness and how Dean is beginning to leak into his heaven.

It's not that Castiel doesn't enjoy the little bits of Dean that have made themselves known in his heaven. He likes them, and he takes care of the fish even though it can't die. Dean is a very pleasant person to be around.

Castiel has Dean's amulet hanging around his neck while on his search for God. It hasn't gone well. Castiel has scoured the entire planet Earth with Dean's amulet, just waiting for it to glow in God's vicinity. It does nothing the whole time, only laying inanimately in Castiel's palm. He knows the amulet meant a lot to Dean, and he'd been a little hesitant to loan it to Castiel's search. He didn't want to show up and return it with nothing to show for it, but he supposes if God doesn't want to be found, he will remain out of sight.

However, he also knows he has to return it eventually, even if he dreads the thought of disappointing Dean or wasting his time.

 **[July 9, 2006, 2:49 PM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** I want to return your amulet to you. Where are you at right now?

 **[July 9, 2006, 2:51 PM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** I’m at Ashley County Medical Centre. Crossett, Arkansas. 2nd level, 5th room on the right.

Castiel flies there as soon as he received the reply, turning up in the hallway outside the room Dean specified. A nurse brushes past him, looking down at her pager as she mumbles an apology to him. A doctor talks to a nurse just down the corridor, but otherwise, it's mostly vacant. He peers through the ward's window and Dean looks up right then, connecting eyes with Castiel. He and Sam are dressed sharply in simple black suits talking to a bedridden teenage boy.

Dean says something to Sam and the younger of the two looks towards the window at Castiel before nodding, turning back to the boy. Even the boy glances over at Castiel and talks to Sam, probably asking who Castiel is. Dean stands and goes over to the door, walking through it to join Castiel in the corridor. He closes the door behind him as he smiles at Castiel. Something in his chest tightens at the way Dean radiates a warm yellow.

"Hey, Cas," Dean greets happily. "You've got my amulet?"

"Yes," Castiel says, taking the amulet off from around his neck. "Thank you for lending it to me."

"No problem," Dean replies, taking the amulet back and looping it over his head. Castiel watches it fall to Dean's chest before Dean tucks it under his white collar. "How was the search?"

Castiel casts his glance to the linoleum floor in quiet shame. "I couldn't find him. I a-- I'm sorry."

Dean frowns, putting a hand on Castiel's shoulder and rocking him slightly, "Hey, what're you saying sorry for? Listen, all good. You could keep it for as long as you needed it, I wouldn't mind. Cas, I'm not Heaven, I'm not gonna chew you out for messing up every once in a while. You didn't even mess up anyway."

"That's not true," Castiel says, finally looking back up at Dean. He'd been referring to Dean saying he isn't Heaven. Heaven isn't Heaven, to begin with, it has never been a paradise. But Dean, Dean is Heaven in his own way. He has an aura about him that he makes everyone feel welcome and safe in his hands. And Castiel can never tire of looking at him, the way his greens and blues are so magnificent and it always feels like the very sight of Dean blesses Castiel's eyes, washes him of every sin.

"Well, it is because I said so," Dean grins. Castiel wishes he can see it for what it is. "You gotta go easier on yourself."

"I'll try," Castiel says. He looks through the window again -- Sam is still talking to the boy, but he has lost the tone of seriousness and both him and the boy seem entertained. They must not be talking about the case anymore. He asks, "What are you two doing?"

Dean follows his gaze before looking back at Castiel. "Following another case Dad sent our way. Pretty sure it's just a vengeful spirit. We'll be outta here by tomorrow." After a moment of faltering, he follows up with, "How long can you stick around for?"

"Not long. My superiors don't like it when I stray too far for too long," Castiel answers apologetically.

"Oh," Dean says. He sounds small and disappointed. "Okay, well, you can text, right? Does Heaven have cell service?"

"Heaven has everything," Castiel smiles, amused by the question. "I can text you, Dean."

"Okay," Dean perks up. "Then I'll text you later." He hesitates and starts, "Cas, I need to tell you something, I --"

Before he can finish, Sam comes out, informing Dean, "Okay, so Zack says all that happened only after he messed around with the notebook at the museum. It's under heavy surveillance until after hours which is when he got his hands on it. Supposedly, they've returned it to its proper place already, so we can break in and steal the notebook tonight, the museum closes at 8." He beams at Castiel after he's done, "Hey, Cas. Good to see you. How's the wing?"

"Working well," Castiel answers. Dean looks down at his shoes, pressing his lips together. He looks a little stressed. "Dean, you were saying?"

"Oh, did I interrupt something? I'm sorry. Go ahead," Sam apologizes, looking to Dean attentively.

Dean shakes his head, chuckling falsely, "It's nothing. It can wait. We should go get ready for tonight." He smiles at Castiel once more, but it looks plastic this time, "I'll see you when I do."

"I will see you when I do," Castiel smiles, hoping it'll make Dean feel better. It does and he's satisfied at Dean's soul lightening up a little bit. He wonders what Dean wanted to tell him, but he doesn't hear from him about it again.

**July 10, 2006**

**[July 10, 2006, 3:59 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** I can’t sleep.  
**Dean Winchester:** Are you there?

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:00 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** I am always here.

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:01 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Awesome.  
**Dean Winchester:** Sam’s asleep and I’m in the motel hallway. I’m doing this week’s crossword.

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:04 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** Struggling with any?

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:06 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** There’s one. 5 letter word, perfect little darling.

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:07 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** Angel.

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:08 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** You calling yourself a perfect little darling?

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:09 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** What about it?

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:10 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Hahaha. Wouldn't be wrong, I guess.  
**Dean Winchester:** Yeah, it fits. Thanks.  
**Dean Winchester:** I’ve got another. 4 letters, popular first-person shooter video game.

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:11 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** I’ll have to think about it.

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:12 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Okay.  
**Dean Winchester:** WAIT.  
**Dean Winchester:** I GOT IT.  
**Dean Winchester:** HALO.  
**Dean Winchester:** I’m so awesome.

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:13 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** Congratulations.

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:15 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** These crosswords are so much fun to do with you.  
**Dean Winchester:** I saw the crosswords in Bobby’s old newspapers are all done.

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:16 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** Did you want to do them? My bad, I was solving them when I was there. There isn’t much to do in Bobby’s home.

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:18 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** No, man. Go crazy with them.  
**Dean Winchester:** You like crosswords?

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:19 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** They are entertaining.  
**Castiel Novak:** What about you?

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:20 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** They pass the time.  
**Dean Winchester:** I like reading the comics more, though.

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:21 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** I will keep that in mind.  
**Castiel Novak:** I need to go.

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:20 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Okay, thanks for helping me with the crossword.

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:21 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** It’s no problem.

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:52 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** Go to sleep, Dean.

 **[July 10, 2006, 4:53 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Okay, okay.  
**Dean Winchester:** Good night, Cas.

**July 15, 2006**

[Found stuck on the Impala's windshield on a green sticky note, with a few folded newspaper pages]

_Dean,_

_I found some comics._

_Castiel_

**July 17, 2006**

[Found places on Bobby’s windowsill, with Dean’s amulet]

_C:_

_Thanks for all the Calvin and Hobbes. Hope you like this. Take care of it, ok?_

_D.W._

**July 25, 2006**

In Heaven, when an angel dies, sometimes the news doesn’t reach Castiel’s ears until years later and by then it’s too late to grieve. But there are so many angels that there’s some Castiel has never even met before, and therefore no point in lamenting over lost time. The only thing that made clear was that all the angels were replaceable. They were not special, and they were disposable.

Sometimes, Castiel makes sure to remind himself of the fact. There are so many more angels in existence, and that the loss of him is no loss at all. So, he has to be careful of where he treads. Take a wrong step onto a landmine and nobody will bother helping you get up.

But Castiel has tested his luck with every new step he takes on the deviated road he's elected to take for the survival of the Winchesters, and now he has run out of luck and stepped on the biggest landmine of all; five angels all sent to kill him for his disobedience. It seems like Bartholomew and Samandriel aren't the only ones who have caught on to his quiet rebellion.

Ishim once told him about places called the Empty and Purgatory. Monsters like vampires, for example, would go to Purgatory when they die, and demons and angels went to the Empty for eternal sleep. Castiel never paid the Empty much thought, because he simply never assumed that he’d ever go there. Angels were immortal, and the list of things that could kill them is very short, so he simply expected to never be subjected to eternal sleep in the Empty.

It's beginning to come to him now, that maybe he should have paid more attention to thinking about the Empty. Five angels against one are odds that don't bode well for his victory.

Ishim had sent five angels from Castiel’s garrison after him; Hester, Mirabel, Benjamin, Rachel and none other than Inias, who looked guilty to be there. It’s like Ishim thinks Naomi is no longer effective because they have orders to kill him on sight. He’s finally grown tired of Castiel and his capacity to feel.

"Inias... Please," Castiel says quietly.

"I know this is hard to understand, so I hope you'll forgive me," Inias says before he suddenly turns to his side, stabbing Rachel in her side. She screams as light spills out of her orifices and Hester, Mirabel and Benjamin's angel blades fall out of their sleeves, ready for a fight. Castiel stares at Inias, surprised, but quickly follows and reveals his own angel blade.

"Why would you do that?" Hester screeches. Castiel despises her voice, it's like needles on a chalkboard for him.

"Because we've been on the wrong side and I'm tired of that," Inias answers, lunging forward at her. Mirabel and Benjamin head straight for Castiel and he dodges a hit from Benjamin to punch Mirabel. Inias grabs at Hester's neck and tries to tackle her to the ground, but she is strong and shoves him away, lifting her angel blade.

Castiel throws his angel blade towards Hester and it smacks the one in her hand out of grip. Inias gives him a nod of thanks before he grabs Hester's shirt, dragging her to the ground with him as they start to fight hand-to-hand. Mirabel, noticing that Castiel is now unarmed, charges at him with his blade and Castiel quickly gets hold of Benjamin, twisting him to fall right between the two of them. Mirabel stabs Benjamin by mistake and he collapses, drowning in holy light.

"Castiel, this is despicable," Mirabel shouts, aggravated. "What happened to you?"

"A mind of my own," Castiel answers before he reaches out for her, trying to pry the angel blade out of her hands to use against her. Hester decides that Castiel is the bigger target and is suddenly at Mirabel's side, punching Castiel so hard that he hears a ringing in his ears for a second.

Mirabel goes to deal with Inias while Hester is left with Castiel. She snatches him up by the collar, angelic strength making it easy to lift him right off the ground. Inias and Mirabel fight with their angel blades in Castiel's peripheral vision, and Castiel realizes he's the only angel unarmed now. She slams him to the wall, dragging him downwards so he's hung up by a nail in the wall that's torn an ugly hole in the back of his trench coat. She says, ridiculing him, "You thought you were enough to save your human. News flash, Castiel. You failed."

"Castiel!" Inias calls out abruptly, interrupting Hester. She glares over at him, almost going to shout something back when her eyes widen.

Before Castiel can process what Inias shouts out to him from across the room, he sees Mirabel, limping and bloodied, slam a hand onto the wall. A bright light engulfs the whole room, swallows it whole, and Castiel feels himself being ripped right out of himself. He faintly gets the sensation of weakness in his legs as he watches himself crumple to the floor.

Jimmy Novak opens his eyes.


	14. Baby, Come On Home

_Maybe I’m amazed at the way you love me all the time._  
_Maybe I’m afraid of the way I love you._  
**The Beatles**

Jimmy Novak is a devout man. He believes in God and by extension, in angels as well. He has to admit that he had had a romanticized vision of them since the idea of angels came into his mind’s view. Innocent beings with bright halos and powerful white wings, porcelain skin, and clean drapes. Pretty hair and stunning eyes, dainty fingers dancing across harp strings to create resonating music that brings tears to his eyes. He imagined that when they cried, it would rain. When they laughed, the stars would shine. When they touched you, you felt loved, and when they looked at you, you felt safe.

The first time Castiel spoke to him, he was scared but quickly got acquainted. He was eager to serve.

How he came to regret that! Being possessed by Castiel felt like being strapped to a comet and heaving to leave his family behind certainly doesn’t help.

To top it all off, he's now stranded in the middle of God damn nowhere with three other people who have even less idea than him of what to do and two unmoving people. Jimmy gets to work immediately, searching the pockets of his trench coat for anything that could give him an inkling as to where he is and what to do. He finds a phone and a crumpled note that simply reads 'Password'. He keys it into the phone and it unlocks, opening up to the homepage.

"Where are we?" one of the women asks.

"I don't know," the other man mutters. "God, my arm."

The other woman gasps, "Are they dead? Oh my God."

"Try to see if you can find anything," Jimmy suggests, going through the contacts on the phone to distract himself from the corpses. "Maybe there's contacts for their families." It's definitely not his own phone. It seems like the last contacted person is a man called Dean Winchester. The last text sent by Castiel was telling Dean to go to sleep, followed by Dean saying that he will and wishing Castiel good night. He supposes Dean would be a good place to start getting answers.

 **[July 25, 2006, 2:10 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** Dean Winchester? I need help.

 **[July 25, 2006, 2:10 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Cas?  
**Dean Winchester:** Where are you?  
**Dean Winchester:** Are you okay?

 **[July 25, 2006, 2:11 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** I’m not Cas. My name is Jimmy Novak. I'm his vessel.  
**Castiel Novak:** Castiel got expelled from me and I don’t know what happened to me. Can you tell me where you are so I can at least find you, get answers?

 **[July 25, 2006, 2:15 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Oh.  
**Dean Winchester:** Okay, yeah. Give me a second.

Dean forwards him the address to somewhere in Sioux Falls and Jimmy gets up off the ground. He helps one of the women up as well and she mumbles a quiet thank you, trying to gain her bearings. He says, "I'm leaving. Will you all be fine here on your own?"

"Yes, thank you," the man says. "Be safe."

"I will," Jimmy nods once, finding the exit. He scrolls through the phone's messages, trying to see if any of it can fill the gaps in his mind. There aren't many messages exchanged between Castiel and Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore and Bobby Singer, but there's a whole lot of them with Dean Winchester. Though, the more of the conversation he reads, the more Jimmy feels like he's invading on their privacy. They do seem very close and a part of Jimmy wondered if there was something more to them.

Of course, Jimmy knows his limits and he stops reading the texts. The call logs contained missed calls by Sam, Dean, and Jessica in 2003 that stop in 2004 with Dean. The call log starts up again in 2006 and it mostly consists of Dean. Then picking Dean to contact was the right choice. He's genuinely concerned about Castiel. Given that Jimmy doesn't know what's become of Castiel, he supposes the concern is warranted anyway. 

Jimmy manages to find his way to the road, getting a truck driver to offer him a ride at the sight of him beaten and bloody. The driver opens the door for him and asks, helping him up into the truck, "Where to?"

"Sioux Falls, thanks," Jimmy answers as the truck starts up once again.

**July 28, 2006**

"Dean, you okay?"

Dean is not okay. He paces the room, hearing the echo of his shoe heels in Bobby's thin wooden floorboards. He's concerned. Scratch that, he's scared. He has no idea what to do if an angel is expelled. Does this mean Cas is dead? Is he just... away? How long until he's back? It's not like he has an instruction manual for this kind of thing.

Sam presses his lips together and asks, "Can you stop pacing? You're giving me a headache."

"Sorry," Dean says insincerely.

"Look, Jimmy's gonna come by any moment now. He told you this morning he's almost here, right?" Sam asks. At Dean's nod, he continues, "Then he'll be here. Just relax. We'll figure this out." When Dean doesn't reply, Sam adds on, "Cas is gonna be fine, Dean. You know, maybe by the time Jimmy gets here, he'll be Cas again."

"You don't know that," Dean mutters just as someone knocks the door. Dean is at the door instantly, swinging it open to see who it is.

He almost calls out Cas's name, but the man in front of him isn't Cas at all. Yes, it's the same face, but he carries himself differently and even the trench coat doesn't look the like what Dean's remembered it to be on his shoulders. His hair looks less dark with the uncharacteristically light expression on Jimmy's face and his eyes just aren't the same. Dean doesn't like to wax poetic but Cas's eyes are like electricity with the way they strike Dean, it's almost like watching a blue flickering flame sometimes. They are ridiculously bright and Dean's sure if it were any brighter, angel grace would come spilling out of his irises. Jimmy's are just blue and Dean's sure that if he asked Sam, he wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

"Jimmy, hi," Sam greets, holding out a hand to him. Jimmy takes his hand and shakes it; it's amiable and nothing like the way Cas shakes hands. Cas is more firm and a little awkward, but it's kind of cute, in a way. "I'm Sam."

"Hey, man," Dean says, clearing his throat. Jimmy gives him a half-smile. Cas doesn't smile like that.

"Then you must be Dean," Jimmy notes. "I hope you don't mind that I used Castiel's phone." God, even the way Jimmy says Castiel is _wrong_. You don't say Castiel's name like it's just another name. Sure, Dean shortens it purely for convenience's sake, but he likes Castiel's name. Sometimes in the middle of the night, Dean just lies there like some fool mouthing Castiel's name quietly to himself. _Cas-ti-el_. It's a beautiful name. Jimmy says it like it's a burden. All wrong.

"No, no. Then you wouldn't have texted me. All good," Dean assures. He wonders if Jimmy has read the texts he and Cas sent one another. He's sure there must be some rule against that. "Come in."

Jimmy enters and shrugs off the trench coat to adjust to the heat in Bobby's home. While Bobby comes out to greet Jimmy, Jimmy hangs the trench coat on the coat rack and Dean automatically retrieves it. He'll take care of it until Cas comes home, just like last time. Cas promised he wouldn't leave without saying goodbye, he will come home.

"What happened?" Bobby asks as Sam goes to retrieve the first aid kit to tend to Jimmy's wounds. Jimmy tells them about how he woke up in virtually the middle of nowhere with four other people, three of them injured and one of them dead. He assumes Castiel was in a fight with the other four angels, but he's not sure who did what.

"Is Cas safe?" Dean finds himself interrupting. He doesn't even realize that he'd cut Jimmy off until Bobby shoots him a weird look.

"I don't know," Jimmy admits. "I came here to let you know what happened. I assume you'll take it from here, so I can take my leave."

"Woah, hey. You can't go. Cas needs a vessel," Dean falters, stepping between Jimmy and the door.

Jimmy frowns, "Then you can be his vessel, I don't care. I want to go home to my wife and daughter."

Sam tries, "Jimmy, I'm sorry but you can't go back. I know how you feel, better than anyone. I tried to run away from this life too, a long time ago." That makes Jimmy stop in his tracks. Sam takes that as a cue to continue, "I was young and I was sick of wasting my life chasing things that go bump in the night. I didn't want this, so I ran away. I left behind everything in my life to go find a better one, one without ghosts and demons and all that supernatural crap."

"That didn't work out so well, huh?" Jimmy mutters, turning to look at Sam.

Sam gives him a sad smile, "I'm here, aren't I?" He glances at Dean and adds on, "I ran to California, went to Stanford University. You know, I wanted to become a lawyer. Help people in the courtroom instead of haunted houses. But this life doesn't let people leave. My dad's missing right now. My mom died and I didn't even get to know her. And my girlfriend is dead because of me." Dean looks up at him, surprised. He didn't think Sam blamed Jess's death on himself. It made no sense, it's obviously the fault of whatever killed Mom and Jess.

"Jimmy, I know you want to go back, but it's just... It's too late, man. It was too late the moment you let Cas take you as his vessel," Sam says steadily, but his hand is held out unconsciously in an attempt to provide solace. "Every angel after Cas knows your face and your family. Going back's just gonna put your wife and daughter in danger."

"I can't go back," Jimmy mumbles quietly, and he settles in his place enough for Dean to step away from the door.

"I'm sorry, Jimmy," Sam says sincerely. Dean notes that he says his name a lot, but that's just Sam. Dean thinks it's supposed to be some psychology thing or something, captures their focus, so Sam picked up the habit of saying someone's name multiple times in a conversation. He wonders if it was something he read online or just a habit.

Jimmy just makes some half-hearted sound as he sits down on the couch, taking off the blazer and loosening his tie. "God, it's hot here."

Dean mindlessly toys with the edges of Cas's trench coat in his arms, watching Jimmy open up enough buttons on his shirt so he can fan himself with the collar. He can't look further from Cas than right now. Even with his hair as unruly as Cas's usually is, it's just different. A different kind of messy. Cas's hair always looks like he rolled right out of bed and decided to leave his hair as it is, and Jimmy's hair just looks like he had a rough day, which he did.

"I have a fan out in the back," Bobby grunts, turning on his heel to get it. With the darkening areas on the back of Bobby's shirt, it doesn't take a genius to guess that the heat is getting to Bobby as well.

With Sam, Dean and Jimmy left while Bobby's gone, Jimmy says, "You were close to Castiel." Dean doesn't think he can get over how disparate their voices are too. Jimmy's is a boyish compared to Cas, in a way that you can tell he enjoys his simple life. Cas's voice sounds like rough gravel and though it started out mostly monotonous, Dean has noticed that it's gotten more expressive over time. He could listen to Cas talk for hours. He has a really nice voice. It's ridiculous how such different voices can come from the same body.

"Yeah," Dean says. "Why?"

"I don't wanna intrude, but is there... something between you two?" Jimmy asks a little awkwardly, rubbing his hands as if it'll dispel some of the gracelessness of his question. "Sorry, shouldn't have asked. None of my business."

Sam folds his arms and cocks his head to give Dean a pointed look. "Yeah, Dean. What's up?"

Dean's eyebrows rise up in surprise, "Dude, what is this?"

Sam shrugs, "You and Cas are really close, man. I'm just curious."

"There's nothing between us, okay? Christ," Dean sputters, completely floored by the question.

Before Sam can say anything else, Bobby calls out, "Can someone help me with the A/C unit?" Jimmy decides that anything is better than the turn the conversation has taken and goes off to assist Bobby with it, leaving Dean and Sam alone.

“You like Cas, don’t you?” Sam asks once Jimmy is out of earshot.

Dean stares at him before scoffing, looking down at his shoes, “He’s my friend. Of course, I like him.”

“I don’t mean it like that and you know it,” Sam says. "I looked at Jess like how you looked at Jimmy when you didn't realize he wasn't Cas."

Dean laughs nervously, "Oh yeah, that must have been awkward for him."

Sam makes a face that says it's too late to think about that now, and he asks, "But you do like him? And don't dodge, we've gotta act like normal people sometimes. Talk to me."

"Okay. Yeah, yeah," Dean finally admits quietly. "Look, it doesn't... It's not important, okay? Angels can't feel emotions for shit, so this doesn't mean anything. It'll go away."

"Dean, how happy you get when Cas is around... That's pretty special," Sam says. "We don't get a lot of options with lives like ours. Cas isn't so bad."

"It won't work out," Dean says, trying not to roll his eyes. He hates this touchy-feely crap.

Sam gets a little more serious, saying, "I lost Jess and I was so ready to ask her to marry me. Cas is likely still around. Don't make the same mistake I did. You should tell him."

Dean tries to think of something to respond with, but Jimmy and Bobby return with the A/C unit. Bobby plugs it into the wall, using his foot to push away some books blocking a power outlet, and then the rush of cold air is welcome to the heated room. Bobby grins, "It's a miracle this piece of crap still works." He pats it once for good measure before going off to the kitchen to get himself some beer.

"I'll have some," Sam says, following Bobby to the kitchen.

"Sorry," Jimmy says. "I overstepped."

"Whatever, man," Dean says half-heartedly. "I don't care."

* * *

[Found by Sam, crumpled up in the trash bin in Bobby's kitchen, on a torn out page from John's journal, dating back to July 10, 2006]

_Dear Cas,_

_I’m in love with you._

_I don't even know how or when it happened, really, it just kind of did. Okay, who am I kidding? I know how and when._

_It was the time we broke out of that holding cell. When you made all the sprinklers go crazy and cracked the lock with your bare hands, and we just kind of ran out of there holding hands. Or wrists. I don't know, I was pretty giddy and I_ _was laughing a lot. But that was the first time you properly smiled. Like, really smiled. You looked really good, but more than anything, you looked happy and free. I think that was what got me because before, you never did look happy._

 _You always gave off the impression that you were just kind of stuck, you know, like you don't have anywhere else to go or anyone else to be other than what your dad made you into. But that day, you were so happy and I thought to_ _myself, that's the smile I want to see forever._

_But you said angels probably can't feel love, so it's not like I'm keeping my hopes up._

_I don't think I'm gonna send this one to you. It's better this way._

_Dean_

* * *

After all of them have some beer in their system (even Jimmy, who told them he'd given up on being a good Christian), they put their heads together to come up with a plan to bring Cas back. Sam instantly suggests summoning an angel that they could interrogate, and Bobby sets off to work on finding a summoning spell for any angel. Sam teaches Jimmy some of Cas's angel banishment and warding tricks, which gives Dean some time to him and his thoughts while he searches Bobby's bookshelves for any relevant content.

The truth is, Dean has been in love with Cas for a while now. A little longer than he'd like to admit, and shorter than he thought it has been. 

He doesn't like sounding straight out of some chick-flick movie that Sam cries about at 2 in the morning, but Cas just makes him like that somehow. He hadn't expected to fall in love with Cas. It just felt so natural, like it'd been happening for a while now and Dean simply woke up one day, thinking that _oh, I'm in love with him_. It just wasn't as surprising a discovery as Dean had thought it would be.

He can already hear Bobby disapproving. Sure, Bobby's warmed up to Cas by now. He's even trying to find a way to save him, but he's sure it's a completely different story in regards to 'hey, I'm in love with the guy who threatened to kill you'. That's not Cas, Dean knows. That's _Castiel_. 

Cas is just... Cas. Somehow, in between the one-sided meals, the angel learning to laugh and memorizing pop culture references, listening to Dean’s favorite songs and trying new human things, he went from Castiel to Cas. And yeah, Castiel and Cas are the same people, but they’re different. At least to Dean, they are. Cas, heaven’s loyal servant, risked it all so he and Sam didn’t have to give up their lives to becoming cosmic entities. A part of Dean wondered why he would ever do that. He had everything; immortality, power. So, maybe, by some twisted logic fuelled by giddy hope, Dean thinks that Cas might actually love him back. But he's seen it first-hand, angels don't really feel much. It took a while for Cas to learn how to even smile, so who knows if he'll ever learn how to love someone, in the way Dean wishes he loved him.

"Dean," Jimmy says lowly from behind him, and just for a second, it sounds so much like Cas that Dean turns around, wide-eyed.

"Cas," Dean utters out before he can stop himself. Jimmy frowns, and it's so painfully un-Cas-like that Dean almost physically cringes.

"Um, no. Still Jimmy," he presses his lips together in amusement. "Bobby sent me to call you to the living room. He's about to do the spell."

The spell gets them the attention of an angel named Balthazar, who is just a sarcastic British blonde man who's sick of them from the moment he appears in the ring of holy fire. Though, his entire demeanor changes when his gaze falls onto Dean. "Look who we have here... Dean Winchester. And you're Sam, I assume."

"Where's Cas?" Dean asks. "And don't bullshit me."

Balthazar's lip quirks up and he looks like he wants to laugh, though he ultimately doesn't. "Feisty. I see why Cas likes you. But apologies, gentlemen. I'm afraid you're asking the wrong angel. The one you contact and I haven't been up in the silver city in a very long time. I'm not in the know."

Dean grits his teeth, patience quickly wearing thin. With every minute wasted, Dean doesn't know if that leads to Cas's demise or if it's already been met. Balthazar notices his mood darken and says, "But if it helps any, there's talk on angel radio. They're looking for him."

Sam perks up at that, "So, he's not in Heaven. He must be alive."

"I can't help you find him. When Cassie doesn't want to be found, believe me, he won't be," Balthazar says. "Trust, he will be back when he wants to be. But he is my friend, so if I happen to see him, I'll let you know, alright? Now, if you'll put out this fire, I can be on my way." They all agree that Balthazar won't be much use past the confirmation of Cas's current status and Bobby breaks the ring of holy fire, letting the angel make his leave.

"Are there any spells that could find Cas specifically?" Jimmy asks, already combing through the spellbook nearest to him. He's just a little bit like Sam, in the sense that he's quick to adapt. Sam joins his side in looking as Bobby tells them something Dean doesn't hear. He's distracted.

"Dean, you okay?" Bobby asks, snapping his fingers to get his attention.

"Give me a minute," Dean replies, getting himself some privacy by stepping out of the house. It's already dark outside. When in doubt, pray. Cas always turns up when he prays and Dean hopes this time won't be any different. He closes his eyes and starts speaking.

“Cas, you alright, man? It's Dean. If you could just come to see us at Bobby's...” Dean opens an eye and looks -- no trench coat in sight. He closes it and continues. “Listen, we... we asked your friend Balthazar to help find you. But if you’ve got your ears on, then maybe I don’t need his help. You can just come back. Cas, I don’t know if you’re okay or not. If you’re not, I promise I’ll find you. And if you’re just hiding somewhere... I’m not mad, alright? You can’t beat Heaven alone, and neither can we.”

He adds after a moment, “I need you, Cas. Please answer.”

He suddenly senses two arms land on his shoulders from behind him and there’s a feeling of homeliness. “Cas?” Then the invisible force is _definitely_ hugging him, and Dean’s hand raises up unconsciously to touch the hand that’s crossed over his chest to rest just under his left shoulder. “Come back to me, Cas. Come on.”

And then the hands are gone and Dean is stuck with a sense of longing for the touch once again. He just knows that that was Cas.

* * *

With the failure to find a spell to summon an angel that isn't Balthazar, Bobby and Sam have decided to try their last card; Dean's prayers. This time, not to Cas, but to every angel. Though Cas warned them that angels can just trace where their prayer is coming to find them, Dean's frankly getting a little desperate to find him.

"You're sure this will work?" Jimmy asks as he follows Dean, Sam, and Bobby out to behind the house.

Sam shrugs, "His prayers work. Why not now?"

Dean closes his eyes so he can act like Sam, Bobby, and Jimmy aren't there, just to preserve a little bit of pride. He's never prayed in front of other people before, but at least he's not praying specifically to Cas with them around. Praying to Cas just seems like such a private thing that the thought of doing it in front of someone else is invasive.

“Dean here. I --“

“Stop, stop. Stop praying,” a man suddenly says from behind them. He has dark hair that’s just a little shaggy but it suits him. He looks tired. “I’ll help you.”

Sam frowns, “Who are you?”

“My name is Inias. I’m an angel of the Lord,” he introduces. “I heard your prayer and followed it here as soon as I could. I know Castiel likes you a lot. He got expelled from his vessel but you already know that. I got expelled too, but found my way back quickly.” He looks pointedly at Dean and Jimmy. “He’s in another vessel right now to hide from the other angels for a little while. I know where he is, I can bring him here.”

“Thank you,” Sam says. “So you're Castiel's friend?"

Inias says, nodding to affirm Sam's assumption, “I know something happened to him and I’m sure you’ve noticed it too.”

Jimmy offers, “I know it has something to do with an angel. I don’t remember her name but she does something to your mind?” Dean stares at him; Why didn't he say anything about this before?

Inias nods, “You’re talking about Naomi. She’s in Heaven, has an office of her own. I cannot get to her on my own because she will do to me what she’s been doing to Castiel.”

“I’ll find her,” Dean promises.

Inias nods once more before saying, “Alright, then I’ll go get Castiel. Wait here. Don't ever pray again.”

When Inias disappears, Jimmy turns to the brothers and asks. “Are you really going to find Naomi?”

“I have to. You should see Cas, man. He’s all torn up about what she did to him,” Dean says.

Sam adds, “And he’s our friend, you know. If getting Naomi will help him, I’m all for it. We’ve got a pretty crazy to-do list, what’s one more item, right?”

Jimmy presses his lips together in thought and says, “But you can’t tell him you’re looking for her. He won't understand.”

“It’ll just be me and Sam looking for her,” Dean assures. "If we find something solid, then we'll tell him." Before Jimmy can say anything else, Inias reappears with John Winchester.

“Castiel,” Jimmy says quietly while Sam and Dean stare wide-eyed at him. He looked like John, but he stood differently and his eyes just aren’t the same. Most of all, they can’t believe their father is right in front of them.

John/Cas asks Jimmy, “Do you consent --“

“Just do it. Take me,” Jimmy interrupts. “I’m your vessel.”

“Very well,” John/Cas says, nodding once. “Thank you, Jimmy. And I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jimmy says softly. A bright light covers both John/Cas and Jimmy, so bright that Sam and Dean have to avert their eyes. Inias stares on quietly.

John Winchester crumples to the ground, weakened by being Cas's vessel, and Sam and Dean run over to help him up. Bobby watches as the light fades away to reveal Cas in Jimmy Novak's body once again. Cas opens and closes his fist like he's reorienting himself with Jimmy. John blinks himself awake, mumbling, "Where am I? Boys?"

"Hey, Dad," Dean greets. "Cas brought you here. We're at Bobby's place."

John rubs his head like he’s just woken up to a bad hangover, “Well, I’m not doing that again.” Sam laughs at John's joke, hugging him.

"Cas, it's good to see you," Dean grins when he looks up at the angel from his place on the ground. He's back, _this_ is Cas. The way Cas smiles back at him, God, Dean loves that smile.

And Dean knows, he knows that there are so many things going on in their lives right now, the kind of things that can tear a world apart and there's just not enough time for this lovesick crap, but Dean can spare a few minutes for crosswords and prayers and angels with blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That bit where Cas hugs Dean during his prayer was inspired by some angel lore I read up on, where they said in times of distress, an angel may hug someone to provide a temporary sense of comfort.


	15. I Saw Him Standing There

_The day I changed was the day I quit trying to fit into a world that never really fit me._   
**JM Storm**

**August 2, 2006**

After Castiel's return into the body of Jimmy Novak, Dean had been extremely happy, excitedly returning the trench coat to him. Dean had welcomed him back with a hug that made Castiel's heart explode like the Fourth of July fireworks he had watched with Dean in 2002. It left Castiel feeling warm all over, and even hours later, he could still feel phantom arms wrapped around his body, the same way it'd been when he'd hugged Dean when he prayed to him before. He couldn't be there physically but he could offer a hug, and he supposed it was enough for Dean then. But that certainly didn't beat hugging Dean in person. His soul is a pleasant sight to behold, and it left a light glow where it touched Castiel's skin. Only Castiel can see it, but it just made it all the more special. Almost like Dean's hug was just for him to see.

John Winchester said something about how it makes a little more sense and that a part of him saw it coming, Castiel being a supernatural being. He said Castiel had acted so strangely when they met the first time and he'd thought about hunting him down, see if he had any ulterior motives to befriending his son. However, he'd put that all behind him after Castiel found him and brought him back to Sam and Dean.

Castiel had possessed a runaway teenage girl while looking for another vessel that could hold him long enough to get him back to Dean and his true vessel Jimmy, and he had found John Winchester bloodied, injured, and left to die. Castiel healed him and told him that he was Castiel, a close friend of his son Dean's and that he can bring him back to them if he gives him permission to utilize him as his vessel for just a little while.

The request had sparked the elder hunter's suspicions and he demanded to know if Castiel was a demon. Castiel calmly explained that he's an angel and that the Winchester brothers are under his personal protection. After further explanation, John finally accepted it and gave his consent for Castiel to possess him. Castiel left the runaway girl by the roadside so she could find her way with the signs and then he followed Inias back to Dean and Sam.

John also told him what he'd found out -- the thing that killed his wife was a demon named Azazel. The name is vaguely familiar to Castiel, but he's certain he has never crossed paths with the demon in question. He is aware that Azazel is a prince of Hell and Lucifer's most loyal servant. Castiel is sure that once John tells Sam and Dean, they will be hot on Azazel's trail. Castiel wishes he can help, but his cover is slowly being blown by other angels and he's not so eager to lose his connection to Heaven this soon when the fight has barely even begun.

Now, they are all assembled in Bobby's living room, working out a plan of attack on Azazel. Sam had informed John of Jessica's demise at Azazel's hand, to which John gave him a hug. He knew better than anyone else in the room, what it felt like to lose the love of your life to the yellow-eyed demon.

The reunion between Bobby and John had been distant at best. Just a firm handshake and polite conversation. Castiel gets the feeling that Bobby is friends with John for the sake of the Winchester brothers. In Bobby's defence, it's not like he and John talk very often if John is as absent as Dean and Sam make him out to be.

So far, the plan had been to get on the trail John has mapped out after months of following Azazel's tracks closely. John looks up from his notes, laid out messily over the desk, and asks, "Halo Head." Castiel's eyes widen slightly, the first time he's ever been referred to as 'Halo Head', and John continues, "Can you track the demon down?"

"I can, but I am not permitted to do so," Castiel says regrettably. "I'm not sure if it's within Heaven's plans for me to assist you with your search, so I --"

"Screw Heaven," John spat. "Will you do it or not?" Dean casts a warning look at him and Sam glances up from the journal in his hands, looking between Castiel and John. Bobby leaves the room.

 _Dean must get his short temper from him_ , Castiel thinks. But at least Dean does much better at keeping it in control. Castiel tries to explain himself, "Some of Heaven is already catching onto my plans to assist your sons. If they find out that that is what I intend to do, I will lose my abilities. Then whether I can find Azazel or not is the least of your problems."

John sighs heavily, looking back at his notes. Castiel gets the sensation of a tiny prick of white-hot anger flare deep in his chest, a feeling that has been foreign to him since joining Dean's side of the fight. He hates the way John's soul is, a dark horrid brown with crude contrasting white and dark orange. It just looks like an ugly stain compared to Dean's breathtaking and Sam's perfectly nice souls. Even Bobby's looks better than John's, a rich dark blue mixed with minimalistic grey and a solid brown.

Castiel tries not to let John's blatant mistrust get to him. Just because of Sam, Dean and Bobby's trust in him doesn't mean that John should follow them. According to Dean and John, Castiel and John have only met once before, so he's right to not be assuming that Castiel is a force of good. It bothers him anyway.

Bobby returns with a few bottles of beer, handing them out. He even offers Castiel one and he accepts it with a quiet ‘thanks’, taking a sip of it. John downs it unattractively, unlike Dean who gulps it down slowly. Castiel can see, barely but there, the way Dean’s jaw moves as he drinks the beer. A drop of the alcohol stays on his lower lip and Castiel has the urge to wipe it off. There is the very fleeting wonder of if the almost stale beer would taste better if he licked it from Dean’s mouth, but he pushes it away. He's not sure he knows what it means.

Bobby's beer is warm in the weather so the taste is a little unpleasant and leaves a bad aftertaste in Castiel's mouth, but he's sure it's just because he's tasting the molecules. Dean, Sam, Bobby, and John seem to be drinking the beer just fine.

"So, what are we gonna do, then?" Bobby asks.

"Feathers there is no good," John starts. Castiel feels the anger bubbling in his gut again. He hates the way John regards him. "And now that he knows I'm onto him, he might have changed his plans. Don't know if this map is any good now."

Dean mutters, "Cas isn't 'no good'. And we can just follow your map and see if Azazel shows or not."

John gives him a look that Castiel isn't familiar enough with emotions yet to read, and then Sam is up on his feet, saying, "Hey, Dean, can I talk to you outside? It won't take long." Dean nods and follows him out, mumbling a quick apology to John for going off. He sends Castiel a soft smile, and Castiel can feel a smile of his own forming on his face in return.

When the brothers leave, it's quiet for a few moments. Bobby sighs and settles into the couch where Dean was formerly sitting. John looks over his notes again, drawing up backup plans in case Azazel tries to throw him off. Castiel wonders what Dean and Sam are talking about.

* * *

"You're sure we shouldn't tell Cas?" Sam asks, folding his arms as he and Dean wait outside Bobby's house, away from the windows.

Dean nods, "It's the right thing. It'd wreck him, especially if we come up empty." He glances around. "Where's the --"

"Hello," Inias greets, appearing behind them. Sam's arms part as he jolts back in surprise and Dean rolls his eyes when he realizes that he gasped at the sudden arrival. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Yeah, yeah. Why'd you ask us to come out here?" Dean asks. Sam and he had gotten contacted telepathically by Inias, requesting them to meet him privately, away from Castiel.

"I will assist you in your pursuance of Naomi," Inias says, bowing his head slightly. Dean wonders if Inias is this formal with Castiel. "Of course, my only condition is that this remains a secret from Castiel."

Sam nods, "Yeah, yeah. We won't tell him."

Dean asks, "Why go after Naomi now? You've had a long time to do it without us."

Inias says, regret spilling into his tone, "Your point stands. I've sat by for far too long. I have seen Castiel disappear into her office and come out as a different person every time. He's like a slate that keeps getting washed clean and I can't watch my friend go through that anymore, now that I know what really happens behind those doors."

Dean shifts his weight on his feet, saying, "Okay. You got a way for us to contact you, or..."

"I'm taking a page out of Castiel's book." Inias pulls out a phone from his pocket -- it's a pretty old model. Sam and Dean frown at the sight of it. "Take my number. You can contact me this way."

"Okay," Sam says, copying down Inias's phone number into his contacts. "Thanks, Inias."

"Please don't mistake my assistance with Naomi as assistance with Heaven," Inias suddenly clarifies. "I will help you wherever you need for Naomi, but you are on your own with Heaven. Good luck."

"Thanks," Dean says insincerely. His falsity is lost on Inias who simply nods once, disappearing into thin air with the sound of wings flapping.

* * *

Castiel is uncomfortable, for lack of a better word. There's some unspoken tension between John and Bobby that Castiel doesn't really know how to resolve, so he keeps quiet. That, and how John glowers at him every once in a while, which earns him a warning look from Bobby, which makes Castiel look down at his shoes.

Thankfully, Sam and Dean return before either human can say anything. John beckons Dean over to talk privately, run his plans over with him. It's clear that John has more trust in Dean than Sam and Castiel supposes it's not bewildering. Dean's been hunting for a much longer time than Sam has been. He's stitched himself up with sterilized needles and thread while Sam is reading law textbooks under the blankets.

Bobby can't be bothered with the plan, and there isn't much point to Castiel knowing it either since he can't partake in it, so he decides to talk to Sam. He moves to the kitchen, making sure Bobby isn't there before he calls out to Sam. “Sam.”

Sam turns back to him, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Yeah, Cas," Sam says. "You need to tell me something?"

Castiel nods and Sam crosses the space to the kitchen. Castiel thinks taking their talk out of the living room makes the conversation seem more private and maybe make it better. He says, "When I got banished before I had to get away, I found Jessica Moore." Sam stops, freezing up as he stares at Castiel, silently begging him to go on. His soul is washed with such an intense blue that Castiel almost wants to avert his gaze. He presses on, though, continuing, "I spoke to her, told her that you missed her, that you were sorry, and that you loved her. I assumed it was what you would want her to know."

Sam gulps. "Yeah, it is. What did... What did she say?"

Castiel answers, "She said she will always love you... And that you can go on without her. She said it will be hard, and that it has been hard, but you can and will. And she says you have nothing to be sorry for."

Sam nods slowly like he's processing Jessica's words, until he finally says, voice breaking slightly, "Thanks, Cas. I needed that."

"I know," Castiel replies. "Sam, I know it's not very convincing given what Heaven has in store for you and your brother, but if there is one thing I have full confidence for in Heaven, it is their ability to put all souls at ease. Jessica is truly in a better place."

Sam moves forward to pull Castiel into a hug and Castiel's arms come up around Sam's back, patting him once like how Dean did when he hugged him earlier. Sam pulls away, giving him a shaky smile, "Thank you. For everything."

"I owe it to you both," Castiel says. "With everything I've done to you before aligning myself with you."

Sam frowns, "What, you mean like what happened at Akobel's place? No, man. You've more than made up for it. It's just a beating, it's not like you killed us. Dean and I were never mad at you for that. Water under the bridge."

Castiel nods minutely. He still feels terrible about it, even though he now knows that he was a different angel then compared to now. "Alright."

Sam picks up on Castiel's reluctance to believe he has truly atoned for his wrongdoings and looks like he wants to say something to that. He starts, "You know, Dean, he --" He cuts himself short, pressing his lips together in contemplation. "Never mind."

"Dean what?" Castiel asks, interest now piqued.

"Nothing, nothing," Sam lies. Castiel can know when people lie to him if he wants to know, and Sam is lying. "Forget I said anything."

"Okay," Castiel says, deciding not to pursue the matter. He's sure if it's of import, Dean will tell him of his own accord.

Sam seems satisfied at that and nods once, "Okay. Thank you again, Cas, really. It means a lot to me."

"It wasn't a problem," Castiel repeats. He wonders what Sam was going to say about Dean.

**August 10, 2006**

[Found by Sam, crushed in the glove box of the Impala on the back of a diner receipt]

_Cas:_

_Been a while. It's getting kinda old now, huh? You disappearing off to where I can't find you. And you can't find me either. It's all getting old._

_I lov_

_Why do I try? You can't feel much of anything._

_D.W._

**August 15, 2006**

**[August 15, 2006, 3:19 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** Heya Cas.

 **[August 15, 2006, 3:20 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** Can’t sleep?

 **[August 15, 2006, 3:20 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** You know me. I just can’t rest.  
 **Dean Winchester:** Help me with this crossword?

 **[August 15, 2006, 3:21 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** Of course. What’s the clue?

 **[August 15, 2006, 3:22 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** Um.  
 **Dean Winchester:** Okay, here it is. The clues are all in French and the answers are supposed to be in English. I don’t know shit about French and this motel’s WiFi is absolute crap.  
 **Dean Winchester:** The clue is “Je t’aime”.

 **[August 15, 2006, 3:24 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** I love you.

 **[August 15, 2006, 3:24 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** What?

 **[August 15, 2006, 3:25 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** Je t’aime is French for “I love you”.

 **[August 15, 2006, 3:31 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** Oh.  
 **Dean Winchester:** Thanks.  
 **Dean Winchester:** Je t’aime.

 **[August 15, 2006, 3:32 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** That’s what it is.

 **[August 15, 2006, 3:36 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** Yeah.

**August 19, 2006**

_It's time._

That's the first thing that comes to Castiel's mind that morning. It isn't like Castiel heard a bell ring or get notified in the mail. He just suddenly had this... feeling, like there's steel in his body where he has hardened himself for an impending blow. It's time.

Castiel is in his personal heaven. Other than the flannel shirt, Dean fish, the note and the Impala with the same thirteen Led Zeppelin songs, there's been a new recent discovery that is hard to miss and harder to overlook.

Dean himself is there now.

It's not a photograph of him, as Castiel would have expected it to be. He has no point of reference for his heaven to even manifest an image of Dean anyway, and Castiel's sure that if it'd been gone off of his near-nonexistent imagination, it would have been largely inaccurate to the real Dean.

No, Dean is there in his normal soul form. Castiel is surprised at his own constant awe every time he is greeted by the sight of Dean's soul. Every single time he sees him, without fail, there is a rippling feeling that tingles throughout his body but ends within his chest, and everything in Castiel just aches and breaks. He's not exactly sure what that would be classified as if he was human. Dean may have helped him get acquainted with some human emotions, but Castiel is still unfamiliar with a vast variety of them. There are just so many emotions, so much so that Castiel isn't sure that his thousands of years of living are enough to experience them all. Humans are incredible.

 _Dean_ is incredible. Dean is so special, so unique, that much Castiel can see. He has this spark in him that ruins Castiel, the way a painter dashes bold strokes across a pristine white canvas. The kind of ruin that you can't and refuse to come back from. He has an air of rebellion around him, like a flash of lightning, striking you so powerfully and intensely that he cannot be denied.

It's with that thought that 'it's time _'_ comes as well. Perhaps it really is time to rebel for good. It's only a matter of time before Ishim sends more angels his way, and Inias may not be there to help him with the next horde. It's better to get them while they're expecting him to stand down rather than be sitting prey.

"Pretty. So pretty," the man says, just like he does every time Castiel is there.

"Yes, it is," Castiel replies, and his mouth tilts up at one side in a small, crooked smile. Dean, standing on the opposite side of the water, just grins. Then he breaks out with a laugh, and the sun passes through his soul and casts a shaky reflection of him on the lake's surface. His soul twists with the ripples, and his image is so distorted in the visual echo that Castiel can't even make out the already hazy features of Dean's real face. And yet, Castiel can still recognize him. He'll recognize that soul, that laugh, anywhere.

Dean is very hard to miss.

"It's Tuesday."

Castiel draws in a rough breath. He is ready.

"Ishim," Castiel calls.

He hears the wings beating down against the air, feels the wind from its movement make his trench coat tremble. Ishim's voice is jarring against his eardrums, still as unpleasant as the last time he'd heard it, as he says, "You got away."

Castiel turns to look at Ishim, and the manifestation of Dean's soul stands behind Ishim. He can tell Dean's cocking his head in curiosity, watching the interactions unfold like it's his business. Castiel says, "I did."

Ishim laughs, the kind of laugh that bubbles low in his chest until it comes out in disbelieving breaths. "You never cease to amaze me, Castiel, with how downright _disappointing_ you are."

"I believe that's old news," Castiel replies, and he's surprised with his blatant disrespect to his garrison captain. It seems like Dean is a bad influence on him, but unusually enough, Castiel likes it that way. Likes the way he's caught Dean's rebellion like a bug, wears the little scraps of freedom he's fed to him like a badge.

Ishim scoffs, shakes his head as he looks all around Castiel's heaven, finally turning and locating Dean. "I don't get it, I really don't. We need vessels to contain Good and Evil. The Winchesters are the true vessels, why won't you just give them up? This doesn't need to be as big a deal as you're making this out to be."

"It's not right and you know it. It's not what God would want us to do," Castiel argues. Dean leans against the Impala, lazily smiles at him as All My Love by Led Zeppelin sounds quietly through the radio.

"And how do you know what God wants?" Ishim snaps, impatient. "This is ridiculous. Stand down."

"No."

Ishim sneers at him, "Fine. I don't need your permission. I'll kill them both, make sure the one you like so much -- Dean, is it? -- dies long and slow. And just because of your annoying contempt, I will let Evil twist Dean Winchester's soul so horribly that it is mangled beyond recognition, and you will never understand why you ever gave up everything for this broken mess of a vessel."

As the track skips to the next one, What Is And What Should Never Be, Dean's face splits into a slow-starting smile. And it is wide and it _glows_ , and the sun dims in comparison. It stirs something in Castiel.

"With all due respect, captain," Castiel says, 'captain' spat with such indignation that Ishim actually widens his eyes at it. "You'll have to go through me."

"Castiel, your heaven is _drowning_ in the human!" Ishim explodes. "I see him everywhere! God knows this is not healthy! What kind of angel relies this much on a human?"

 _Me_ , Castiel thinks. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks that _no, I don't really want to be an angel anyway_. If it means he can't laugh over absurd crossword clues with Dean, or text him late into the night until there's a smile spread so wide on his face that it doesn't go away for hours, or that he simply can't see Dean anymore, then no, _I don't want to be an angel at all._

Ishim continues, "Have you learnt nothing from Akobel?"

A faint thought crawls to the front of his memory, an off-hand reflection he'd done on himself before Dean corrupted him so beautifully. Before he knew how good it felt to feel, he'd thought that there is no way he would ever turn out like Akobel.

Funny how the tables have turned.

Ishim throws his hands up in exasperation and Castiel carefully watches the way Ishim turns back to look at the false Dean. He sees the way his posture straightens and his hands rub together in contemplation like he's already thinking of how many different ways he could tear the real Dean apart, destroy him so thoroughly that Castiel would never have enough time to put him back together.

“Ishim,” Castiel calls out. When Ishim twists back around to face him, Castiel says, “Hurt him and I will hunt you down. There will be no corner in the universe safe enough for when I find you.”

“Why? Why would you do that?” Ishim asks loudly. “You had everything, Castiel. You are an angel! You are above these trifling issues. What is so worth saving?” Castiel’s heard that question before, but this time he has an answer.

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel says.

That sends Ishim over the edge and he reveals his angel blade, lunging at Castiel. Castiel's own one falls out of his sleeve into his grip and he fights, not holding back. Destroying his fellow angel is a pleasant thought, and he revels in how much he has changed since Dean touched him. He nicks Ishim's side when the garrison captain knocks his arm away before Castiel can do proper damage. Ishim tackles Castiel and soft grass tickles Castiel's cheek as Ishim shoves his face into the ground.

Castiel's eyes find its way to Dean. His sight is tilted with his uncomfortable position, pinned under Ishim, but he can see, so clearly, the way Dean's soul shines with the trees' shadows cast upon it. Black Dog is playing.

_Eyes that shine, burnin’ red._   
_Dreams of you all through my head._

Dean smiles.

Castiel twists with all his strength, causing Ishim to topple. Castiel holds Ishim down, staring at him as he tries to decide if he should kill Ishim or let him go before he loses his vantage point. Killing Ishim is tempting and it will, no doubt, put Castiel at ease. However, killing him also means that Castiel is next in line to be the garrison captain and he is in no position to be put in authority and high scrutiny. Coupled with the fact that murdering a garrison captain in his heaven will have Heaven's forces coming down on him for rebellion when he's already moderately struggling with what few angels he has faced so far.

Castiel gets off of Ishim and flies away, in hopes of finding a way to lie low. He is officially on the run.


	16. Twist And Shout

_I am touched by wonder when I am blind in the dark._  
**AURORA**

**August 26, 2006**

Castiel has noticed something recently.

Dean's soul drips hopelessly at the edges with a deep red and cotton candy pink when Castiel looks his way. It's a detail that Castiel doesn't properly catch until he had to be more attentive of the Winchesters now that Heaven knows of his rebellion. Dean's typical gentle azure and aquamarine is still ever-present, but the way Dean's soul flushes a light pink when he meets Castiel's eyes across the room does make Castiel feel dizzy.

He's not really sure what emotion that's supposed to be, so Castiel keeps quiet about it.

Otherwise, Inias has been quiet as well. Castiel thinks he's laying low so Ishim doesn't send angels after him as well since they would be on high alert after Castiel's rebellion. He does not mind waiting for Inias. He can stand around and wait for eons if he had to, but the matter of Dean and Sam and Good and Evil does mean that they have a tight schedule. However, he doesn't have any control over what little stream of information Inias has access to, and therefore the best thing he can do is simply wait for news before he can truly formulate a plan.

He has warded Bobby's home by etching Enochian symbols that cloak him from other angels. Inias had followed Castiel in getting a phone to keep in contact with Castiel, knowing that he will be hidden from his radar. Castiel didn't expect Inias to do that, but it is welcome as a form of communication while Castiel, in Dean's words, is M.I.A. Just in case the sigil is somehow rendered useless, Castiel has taken to branding his own vessel with Enochian sigils as well, the same way he engraved Dean, Sam and Bobby's ribs with it.

He doesn't get to see Dean during the week he has been confined to Bobby's house as the three Winchesters had taken off to hunt down Azazel. Castiel wishes he can help, but he imagines that his assistance will only cause more harm than good in the long run. Besides, John Winchester doesn't particularly take too kindly to him, but Bobby tells Castiel not to take it to heart since John's opinions are "rarely worth a damn."

He does miss seeing Dean's soul and the way his soul doesn't shine yellow when he sees Castiel now, but instead, red and pink. It's not a hostile red, and he knows it's not a passive pink either, so Castiel doesn't exactly know why the change from ecstatic yellow to foreign rose. Is Dean no longer happy to see him? What does it mean when Dean smiles like red wine and pink satin?

Castiel has only seen Dean once since he'd left Heaven, and it had been a very brief meeting; a pat on the back as John hustles his sons out of Bobby's door into the Impala. It has been almost a full week since he'd left Ishim defeated in his heaven and ran off to find Dean, though he ultimately only sees Bobby. Castiel doesn't doubt Ishim has torn the Dean apparition up to his last atom several times. He won't put it past him to trash his heaven completely. It'll likely all be repaired should Castiel want to return. It's the magic of Heaven, nothing can truly be destroyed.

Castiel keeps himself occupied as he waits for news of any kind. Inias texts him small things, like how Ishim is livid and has sent angels to locate him, and Inias jokes about how dumb could Ishim be to believe that Castiel wouldn't have warded himself by now. Sam texts him sometimes, so early in the morning that Castiel believes Dean is likely still asleep and tells him how the search for Azazel is going. A few days prior, Sam had just gone on a long rambling session about Jessica Moore until he fell asleep at the keyboard, but Castiel paid attention and chimed in when Sam wants him to. He thinks their bond is improving, like his with Bobby. He's happy about it.

Dean texts him about things that have absolutely nothing to do with anything going on, almost as if he and Castiel live in a separate universe, one where Ishim did not threaten to shove writhing, grotesque Evil down Dean's throat and mutilate his soul beyond recognition. A universe where Jessica Moore did not burn on the ceiling and send Sam into a downward spiral. A universe where John Winchester was never found. A universe where it is just Dean and Castiel, and it is a universe where that is enough.

Dean texts him, often either during his lunchtime or unhealthily late into the night. Castiel chastises him for it and tries to get him to sleep earlier, but he always relents when Dean launches into whatever has interested him enough to talk about with Castiel. He can't deny Dean Winchester, no matter how much he would want to. Dean usually works on crosswords when the nightmares get too bad to just go back to slumber, and Castiel helps him with the harder questions. Dean sends a picture of every puzzle completed with his help and Castiel saves every one to his gallery. Dean goes off on tangents about science fiction franchises, talking about plot holes or failed reboots, or superheroes he wishes he was. Castiel humors him, and then he looks up whatever Dean was talking about once Dean has gone to bed.

And now, Castiel is seated quietly at the dining table, and it creaks when his elbow leans on the corner wrong. Bobby is eating instant ramen out of a cup with thin wooden chopsticks, the steam settling as condensation against Bobby's cooler skin. Castiel got the A/C unit running with Bobby's request and the man has never seemed so satisfied.

"You ever tried this?" Bobby asks.

"It all tastes like molecules to me," Castiel replies.

Bobby mumbles, "You drank my beer the other time."

"And it is still molecules," Castiel says. "I drink it for the sake of it. I taste nothing, and I feel nothing."

Bobby lifts an eyebrow in incredulity and says, "I wouldn't say you feel nothin'. I see the way you look at Dean."

Castiel runs a hand over the corner of the table, repairing it under his fingertips so it no longer creaks. "Dean does bring out... emotions, in me. I don't know how he does it, but he does. It's peculiar. I've become like Akobel."

Bobby asks, shoving ramen into his mouth ungracefully, "Who's that?"

"Another angel. I knew him well, I think," Castiel explains. "He fell in love with a human and gave up his duties as an angel to stay here with her. He had a daughter with her, and he felt emotions. It's not easy for me. To feel."

"You in love with Dean?" Bobby suddenly asks.

Castiel frowns, "What does that have to do with this?"

"If you're anything like Akobel," Bobby shrugs. "Are you?"

"I don't know," Castiel says slowly. "What being in love entails."

"You can't explain that kinda thing. It's just something you know," Bobby says off-handedly.

Castiel looks up at him earnestly, wanting to learn more, "How will I know?"

"You'll just know," Bobby says, finishing off the last of the noodles. "When I met my wife, it was just like the snap of my fingers. I just knew it, you know. That's it."

"That's not very helpful," Castiel mutters.

"That's the best I can offer," Bobby says flatly, standing to toss the empty paper cup and dampened chopsticks into the garbage.

Castiel is deep in thought until Dean comes home.

**September 2, 2006**

**[September 2, 2006, 2:59 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Hey perfect little darling.

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:00 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** What?  
**Castiel Novak:** Oh, yes. The crossword hint.

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:01 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Yeah, hahaha. Hey angel.  
**Dean Winchester:** What’s up?

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:01 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** My blood pressure.

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:02 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Is that a joke?

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:02 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** It was meant to be, but I think “joke” is an overstatement.

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:03 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** I laughed, don’t worry. It’s funny.  
**Dean Winchester:** Has anything happened in Heaven so far?

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:04 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** Nothing you need to concern yourself with yet. They’re mostly trying to figure out where I am since you and Sam have been warded.

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:05 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** How are you hiding, anyway? Did you ward yourself?

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:05 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** There is a unique Enochian sigil that can hide me from other angels. I have done it up in Bobby’s home, with his permission. I have elected to stay here until I have a solid plan on how to move forward. Inias will update me with new information on Heaven.  
**Castiel Novak:** Until Inias comes to me, I have nothing.  
**Castiel Novak:** How is your search for Azazel?

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:08 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Well, if you’re gonna be stuck there, at least Bobby isn’t bad company.  
**Dean Winchester:** It’s going okay. Dad’s pretty driven and it’s getting to Sam. I think we’re getting close. I’ll update you.

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:10 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** Alright.  
**Castiel Novak:** What are you doing up at this hour? Where are you?

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:11 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Car. We were driving to Helena, Montana. There’s supposed to be a lead there, but Sam and Dad got into an argument and are just shouting on the side of the road.  
**Dean Winchester:** I’m kind of over it.  
**Dean Winchester:** Just wanna find and kill the bastard, and go home.

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:13 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** You have a home?

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:14 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Well, you’re there, aren’t you?

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:15 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** I don’t understand.

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:15 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Never mind.  
**Dean Winchester:** They’re coming back. I’ll see you when I do.  
**Dean Winchester:** Night, Cas.

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:16 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** May the force be with you.  
**Castiel Novak:** Did I use that right?

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:15 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** HELL YEAH.  
**Dean Winchester:** When this all blows over, we need to watch Star Wars together.  
**Dean Winchester:** Okay, okay. Go to sleep.

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:17 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** I don’t sleep.

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:17 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** I know.  
**Dean Winchester:** I meant to get some rest. You’ve had a rough couple of days.

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:18 AM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** You should get some rest too, Dean.  
**Castiel Novak:** And do not text me while you drive.

 **[September 2, 2006, 3:19 AM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Okay, angel.

**September 6, 2006**

When Dean returns to Bobby's home, Castiel has fireworks going off in his pulse from the anticipation of his arrival. Bobby makes a comment while Castiel stands at the front porch waiting for the Impala to roll into view, that he is "so gone on that Dean", but Castiel pays it no mind.

When the Impala slows and the Winchesters pour out, he can tell their search has been futile. John has a depressing, vengeful black tainting his soul, and Sam is doused with a pale dark blue with disappointment. Dean, while having an off-putting darker purple of frustration, still emanates red when he sees Castiel and he pulls him into a deep hug that Castiel readily returns, their bodies pressed flush against one another.

"Man, it is good to see you, Cas," Dean grins. Castiel realizes belatedly that he has a smile of his own and he isn't able to identify just when that happened. He supposes it's when he saw Dean step out of the car.

"You too," Castiel replies. There's a flicker of bright firework pink across Dean's smile for a second before it dissipates like gas.

When Dean pulls away from him, Castiel catches himself unconsciously following Dean's body with his own, like they're still attached, and he stops. He's not sure why the way Dean sways with him as they embrace leaves a lingering feeling of warmth all over him but he craves to feel it again.

Sam hugs him as Dean goes to greet Bobby, but it doesn't quite feel the same as Dean's hug does. He still welcomes it, however. Sam breaks the embrace with a plastic smile that doesn't meet his eyes and then he's off to say hi to Bobby. John doesn't even spare Castiel a glance and Castiel doesn't complain.

When they're all inside and Bobby gets them beer, Castiel fills the Winchesters in on things on his end. As it has been, for the most part, considerably uneventful, Castiel doesn't speak very long, only informing them that Heaven is no longer accessible to him as he cannot return without getting caught and that he gets to keep his powers since they can't even locate him to cut him off. It does leave Dean with a question.

“What now?” Dean asks.

“I don’t know,” Castiel smiles. “Isn’t that amazing?”

**September 13, 2006**

Inias tells Castiel that the angels plan on turning the Earth upside down, deciding that Castiel has possibly warded Dean and Sam and rendering them undiscoverable. Castiel convinces the brothers that staying in Bobby's warded home is the safest option for them while angels go through state after state to find them. John tells them he doesn't care about "this Good and Evil shit" and leaves Dean with his current phone number before he promptly departs. He lets Dean keep the Impala and hails a cab. Castiel had offered to engrave Enochian sigils onto him but John refused and declined the Cat's Eye that Balthazar gifted Castiel for protection.

Bobby's house doesn't have much to do. Sam catches up on his law school work and video chats with his classmates. Most offer their condolences about Jessica, and they barely get through two sentences of reminiscing before Sam hangs up the call, not ready to hear people talk about her. Castiel and Dean keep busy with anything they can get their hands on; they do all the crosswords in every paper Bobby has stowed away, and then they do it all again until Bobby tells them to get another hobby more useful to their situation. 

Sam and Dean disappear sometimes into the Impala. Castiel never follows, but he wonders what it is that is so private that they don't want Castiel tuning in. The Impala is still warded, which meant Castiel can't eavesdrop. He does respect their privacy and willingly doesn't listen, but curiosity still burns when he sees them huddled in the car, talking.

"What were you talking about?" Castiel asks when he catches Dean after yet another car talk.

Dean flushes a dishonest silver. "Jess stuff."

"Okay," Castiel lets it go. If Dean wants to tell him, he will.

Castiel watches the news to see if he can catch anything about angels in the vicinity. They are still fairly far as their search is manual, so Castiel decides that there's nothing to do about it. Inias updates him constantly via text, telling him that the search draws up a blank and that the superiors might try to think of a new tactic to find the Winchesters and Castiel. Castiel says bring it on.

When it's late at night, Dean doesn't text him, but he lets Castiel dream walk when he sleeps, and they spend more time together. Dean sleeps far easier here, and he tells Castiel that he feels more at ease when Castiel is around, so Castiel offers to stay by his side until he falls asleep.

Tonight's dream is a distant memory of Dean's, where he is fishing and it is peaceful.

Castiel asks, out of the blue, "Can you tell me what you look like?"

A smile tugs at the edges of Dean's mouth. "Why?"

"I just want to know," Castiel provides. "Will you?"

Dean draws in a deep breath, looking out at the calm water as no fish bites his bait. "Okay. Um, my hair's pretty short. My dad said I got blonde hair from my mom, but it looks more like brown to me. I've got green eyes and I'm extremely handsome."

That earns a mild laugh from Castiel, and Dean grins wide and sunny and so, so red.

"Can I have more details?" Castiel requests, hoping it doesn't seem weird to Dean.

Dean takes it in stride, though, explaining as best as he can, "Well, I'm just going off what this girl in high school described me to look like when we had to draw each other for art class. She said I had great lips and am a great kisser." Dean laughs at that and continues. "She said the green in my eyes reminds her of a tree. And she said I've got a sharp jawline and cheekbones, but I don't know. Said I've got freckles under my eyes, over my nose. That's all I can remember."

Castiel paints an image in his mind as best as he can, going off the description Dean has offered. It is smudgy like he'd drawn Dean's face into the sand and the water pulled at all the edges. It frustrates Castiel that angels don't have much of an imagination, but this hazy vision of Dean will have to suffice.

Dean looks good. Dean looks beautiful.

"Thank you," Castiel says softly. The smile Dean gives him is gentle, and he looks good.

They settle into a silence that they have both grown comfortable with until Castiel decides to break it with, "Why do humans lie?" He's not sure where that came from -- maybe he wants to see what Dean's explanation is for the moments when he hides out in the Impala and comes back to supply Castiel with a lie.

Dean lifts his eyes up to look at Castiel, squinting against the sun. "What do you mean?"

"Why do humans lie?" Castiel repeats.

"You lied too, Cas. A lot," Dean points out, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a lopsided grin to show that he's not offended. "You told me you were human, and that you were a hunter, and that you had a normal human history... You lied a lot."

Castiel considers it, frowning, "I don't remember."

"It's okay. You will, I promise," Dean says. His voice has a firmness that Castiel doesn't understand where this confidence comes from, but he trusts him.

"So why do humans lie?" Castiel asks once again.

Dean shrugs, answering as he looks back out at the water, “When humans want something really bad, they lie.”

Something clicks in Castiel’s brain.

_How will I know?_

_You’ll just know. I just knew it, you know. That’s it._

He wants Dean, and he wants him so badly that something in Castiel aches and bursts and drowns him in the same way the sunlight drowns Dean's soul in a deep beautiful yellow when Dean sees him, and in the same way the new wine red drowns Castiel in a state not unlike being intoxicated. Dean is so stunningly beautiful in every single way, and Castiel doesn't need to see his human body to know he will love whatever he sees.

Then there is the very intrusive thought of: _But does Dean want_ you _?_

And yes, Castiel should have known it was always going to end this way. It hurt, and he maybe liked to live in denial, but he should have known.


	17. I Can’t Quit You, Baby

_Slowly, then all at once. A single loose thread and it all comes undone._  
**Sleeping At Last**

**September 27, 2006**

[Found by Sam, crumpled up in the trash can, on notebook paper]

_Cas:_

_Writing to you always makes me feel a little better, so here I am. It's like 2 in the morning right now, and I think you're talking to Sam. Bobby's asleep. I'm in the kitchen writing this. You're never gonna see this because I'm gonna dump this when I'm done, but it's good to pretend I'm talking to you._

_There's a lot I want to talk about, and I think I should start with how unsure I am of everything right now. You know, Dad's gone off on his own. I tried to tell him it's dangerous and we should stick together, especially with that Azazel dude and the angels chasing us down. He didn't want to listen to me, and he refuses to pick up my calls. He just texts me every night to say "OK"._

_Azazel is doing a great job of hiding from us. Sam and I are trying our best to pick up the trail, but Dad took all his notes with him and didn't leave any copies, so we have to improvise. I know you want to help and I appreciate it, but I think it's better if you stay with Bobby._

_Speaking of angels, we've been cozying up with your buddy Inias to find Naomi. She's the lady who makes you forget. I'm hoping that when we get to her, she'll tell us how to give you back your memories. I know how much it tears you up about everything you forget, so I just really want to do this for you. So far, it's all coming to a moot point. Inias can't find much without risking getting rebooted by Naomi and Sam and I can't really reach Heaven on our own, especially with targets on our backs. But I'm not giving up yet._

_I know I didn't tell you we were after Naomi. I didn't want to get your hopes up in case nothing came of it. I'm tired of all the chasing and being chased._

_And I'm tired of pretending everything is fine because it's not. Forget about Dad and Azazel and Naomi and Good and Evil, I'm tired of pretending I don't love you, and I'm tired of pretending like it doesn't fucking destroy me when you give me that smile, and I'm tired of pretending I don't want to just hold your hand and run off into the sunset together. Believe me, I want to._

_You know, at first, I kept thinking that maybe once this is over, I'll look at you and think you're not so great after all, that maybe I was just caught up with the whole angel thing and spending so much time with you, and I won't like you all that much when it's done and I won't want you anymore and_

_Who am I kidding?_

_I want you more than anything, and I want to hold your hand and kiss you, and I just want you._

_I used to think you were funny, kinda like a baby in a trench coat because you didn't know shit about humans, but you tried your best to keep up with me. I thought that you could have been my first real friend. And I thought my mom sent you because you were so good, you know? And now I'm waxing poetic about you when I sleep. And I still like you even though you’re not that funny._

_You're one of the only things in my life I'm sure of right now._

_I want you so bad, Cas. You have no idea._

_Dean_

**October 3, 2006**

[Found by Bobby, buried under old magazines on a torn piece of notebook paper, thick black marker blotting out some words]

_Cas,_

_Dean needs you, man. I know him, and I know he_ [redacted] _you. I don't know if you know what_ [redacted] _is since you don't really know much about human emotion, so I'll try to explain it to you._ [redacted] _is when you are ready to do whatever you need to do to keep someone safe and happy, and it's when nothing else in the world makes you feel the same way as you do when you are with them. It's there when you see them and it's even more obvious when they're not. And it seems like it's pain and worthless at first but it's one of the best things about being human. If you ask me, I think you_ [redacted] _Dean too._

_I think you both deserve to be happy, especially with all the shit going on right now. I hope you find this._

_Sam_

**October 12, 2006**

**[October 12, 2006, 1:35 PM]**  
**Inias:** I have gotten word that there are angels in South Dakota.  
**Inias:** Be careful.

 **[October 12, 2006, 1:35 PM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** Thank you. You, as well.

 **[October 12, 2006, 1:36 PM]**  
**Inias:** And I have also gotten word on Azazel. The angels are talking about him. They say he is looking for the Winchester boys.

 **[October 12, 2006, 1:36 PM]**  
**Castiel Novak:** What for?

 **[October 12, 2006, 1:36 PM]**  
**Inias:** John Winchester is dead. My condolences.

* * *

Castiel is unfamiliar with the process of grief. He's never really mourned the loss of any of his angel friends. He did feel upset and beaten down when he thought Balthazar had died in the war but he turned out to still be alive, so did it even matter in the end?

Sam and Dean don't take the death of John Winchester well. Dean is worse. Castiel dream-walks into Dean's slumber to keep him company. Some nights, they don't talk at all, and Castiel stands next to Dean quietly as he waits for fish to never catch his bait when he throws his line out.

Castiel also checks in on Sam every now and then. He's doing much better than Dean, crediting it to how John and he were never that close. He felt sad about John's death, but he was significantly less affected than Dean is. Castiel understands. Sam chooses to grieve by diving right into the lore to find Azazel.

Dean goes on drives late at night to cope and Castiel comes along just in case, even though the Impala has been warded as well, Enochian sigils engraved deep in the vehicle. Dean never plays any music on these drives, preferring the somber silence that settles between them. Castiel doesn't speak unless Dean does, but he never opens his mouth.

It's the fifth drive of the week and Castiel stays quiet in the passenger seat as Dean pushes the speed limit on the empty roads of 3 in the morning.

"Cas." Dean's voice is quiet.

"Yes?" Castiel replies.

"Do you think Dad's in Heaven?" Dean asks. The question comes out sounding like he didn't want to ask, so Castiel isn't sure if Dean even intends to pull an answer from him.

However, Castiel tells him what he thinks he wants to hear, "With all the lives he has saved being a hunter, I believe he is resting peacefully." With all the good John has done, he also hasn't been a perfect human being, but perfection is a pretty far-fetched idea. Castiel knows that it's unreasonable if Heaven expects every soul who walks through those gates to be flawless.

Dean nods, semi-unconvinced, but accepting the answer. He says, anger with grief simmering just beneath the surface, "I told him last month that he can't do this alone but he didn't listen." Castiel doesn't say anything, letting Dean go on. "You know, I -- I told him. I wanted to go with him. This was our fight as much as it was his, but he's just -- he's so stubborn, Mom always said he was. And he just went off on his own and look where that got him." He clenches his jaw, dark black and grey rising from his center. "He's dead. You know, maybe he would still be alive if I didn't listen to him too, went with him anyway --"

"Dean."

"Maybe I would have been the dead one instead --"

" _Dean_ ," Castiel cuts over Dean. "Stop."

Dean spares Castiel a quick glance before he looks back to the dark road, lit up only by the Impala's headlights. Castiel presses his lips together in contemplation of his next words. He's never been in a situation like this before. When an angel dies, rarely did any of them mourn for a long time, and none grieved hard enough to need to "talk out their feelings", for the few that had feelings, to begin with.

"It's not your fault. Azazel is the one who did this and he will pay for his actions in due time. We will get him," Castiel promises. "You dying in his place does nothing for anyone."

"Sure would've done something for him, at least," Dean chuckles darkly.

It's a new side to Dean that Castiel hasn't seen before. He isn't sure what to say, and he stares at Dean for so long trying to come up with something.

Eventually, he says, "Inias checked."

Dean looks at him again. "What?"

"Inias checked on John Winchester," Castiel says. It's a lie, but if it will put Dean at ease, he will tell it. He makes a mental note to ask Inias to look him up. "John told Inias to pass on a message."

Dean pauses like he wants to ask something, but his expression flickers with unknown thoughts and he asks instead, "What did Dad say?"

"That he wants you and Sam to keep going," Castiel replies slowly, running the words through his mind and hoping that they sound like John. Dean makes a left as Castiel continues, "He says that... he is proud of you two."

"I can't --" Dean starts, cutting himself off as he grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. "Cas, I -- He --"

"We will find him," Castiel says, as soft as he can. "His death won't be in vain."

Dean draws in a deep breath and keeps driving. He drives until he sees light and brings the Impala to a stop. He's in the parking lot of a convenience store, open late with only one cashier working. Dean rests his head on the steering wheel and closes his eyes, bringing himself down to the ground. Castiel waits patiently for Dean to collect himself.

When Dean finally lifts his head, he says, voice cracking slightly with the beginning of tears, “I feel like I’m broken, Cas. It’s like this thing inside me, that’s just one beat off. Something’s wrong with me, and I’m sorry to God or whatever, but I can't do it. I don’t know why I’m just so broken.”

“Dean, you’re not broken...” Castiel watches the way Dean’s body shakes with grief and self-deprecation and it absolutely breaks his heart. He reaches out and tentatively places a hand on Dean's shoulder in an attempt to bring comfort. “God created everyone as a foundation. Nobody is built knowing what to do, who to be. He gives you the book, and you write your own endings as you go.” Dean looks up to meet Castiel’s eyes with his own. “So, if you were never whole, how could you have ever been broken?”

Dean breaths shakily, closing his eyes like he's trying not to break down in front of Castiel. He asks quietly, "Can you talk to me about something else?"

"About what?"

"Anything," Dean answers, turning in his seat so he can face Castiel. His soul normally looks like colorful clouds, but now it looks like a watercolour painting, blemished by grief. "Anything but Dad. Just distract me."

Castiel thinks for a moment before he offers, "In my Heaven, there's a man there."

"Oh yeah?" Dean sniffs. "Who's he?"

"I'm not sure what his name is, it's... another thing I have forgotten," Castiel replies. He's always thought of him as The Man, never a name or a shred of history to his being. Castiel wishes he knew. "My Heaven is a day from his life, a Tuesday afternoon in 1953. I think you would like it there, it reminds me a bit of your fishing dream, at the dock. It's very peaceful there. There's a lake, and soft grass all around. Tall trees."

Dean nods slowly, and Castiel thinks he's trying to imagine what Castiel's Heaven looks like in hopes that the vision will push out grieving thoughts. Castiel tries to help him, "The grass is never dry. If you walked barefoot, your toes would have mildew. And it is always so sunny, but just the right amount. The lake mirrors the sky. The man always sits right by the lake."

"Does he ever say anything?" Dean asks.

"He always says it's very pretty, and that it's Tuesday," Castiel answers. "One time I stayed long enough to see a fish swim up to the surface, and he said not to step on it because there were big plans for the fish."

A small smile lifts the corner of Dean's lips. Castiel's heart swells -- Dean's feeling a little better now. "Big plans, huh?"

"There's always a big plan for everyone," Castiel replies thoughtfully. "Or we wouldn't be here right now."

Dean stares at him and he leans in slightly until he stops in place, uncomfortably tilted in his seat. He clears his throat, "I'm gonna go buy a pack of menthols."

"I'll go with you," Castiel says, opening the door to follow Dean into the convenience store. The teenage girl at the counter gives them a smile before she goes in the backroom, presumably to end her shift. Castiel offers a smile back.

Dean picks out a pack of cigarettes -- Castiel doesn't think he's ever seen Dean smoke, so he's unsure what he's buying them for. Or maybe he only smokes when he's stressed out. At least, it didn't seem like a habit. He asks, "Do you want anything?"

"I don't --"

"You don't eat, yeah," Dean says. He points at the newspaper rack behind Castiel. "Can you get one?"

"Of course," Castiel nods, turning around to pick a copy with crosswords in them. He's sure Dean will appreciate the temporary distraction. He hears the door open again, it must be the next shift's cashier. Dean talks to him, making casual conversation, and then the sound of a scuffle sends Castiel rushing over, angel blade dropping out of his sleeve.

The man is possessed by an angel Castiel hasn't met before and therefore doesn't know the name of. His name tag reads "ALFIE". Castiel pulls Alfie off of Dean before he can reveal his own blade and throws him over the counter. Alfie crashes into the shelves behind him, crashing to the ground. Castiel helps Dean up and pushes his blade to Dean for him to wield instead. Alfie gets up and gets over the counter, grabbing Castiel by his collar and shoving him into a shelf. The entire row collapses under Castiel and Alfie turns around, snapping at Dean to freeze him in the spot. His arm is halfway up, ready to stab Alfie with the angel blade.

"Castiel and Dean Winchester," Alfie sneers. "You are hard to find."

"How many of you are in Sioux Falls?" Dean asks, still practically paralyzed.

"A handful," Alfie replies smugly. "But more will come. I've already informed them that you're here."

Castiel summons his strength and flips them over, punching Alfie so hard in the face that he stumbles back into the other shelf. Castiel grabs at his uniform and drags him across the shelf, items falling out as his body crosses them. Dean is broken out of his frozen state and he tries to find an opening to get at Alfie with the blade.

Alfie uppercuts Castiel and steps forward, taking hold of his trench coat to throw him against the newspapers and magazines. When Castiel collides with it, Dean comes forward and tries to fight Alfie. He tries to punch him but instantly regrets it -- hitting an angel is like punching reinforced steel. Castiel hopes Dean didn't break his hand. Dean uses his other hand to wield the angel blade and Alfie stops it with his own, jabbing Dean across the jaw. Dean falls to the ground, hand coming up to touch his face as he grimaces.

Castiel gets back up and smashes his head to Alfie's before shoving him back, kicking his chest. He collides with one of the Slurpee machines and blue iced liquid comes gushing out.

Castiel takes the other machine and smashes it against Alfie. When Alfie tries to get back on his feet, slightly out of it from Castiel's beating, Dean takes advantage of his disorientation to plunge the blade into his chest. Bright light shoots out from his eyes and mouth before he falls limp to the ground, the last of the blue liquid dripping onto his body.

"Shit," Dean exhales, holding the angel blade out to return it to Castiel, cradling his injured hand to his chest.

Castiel pushes the blade back to him lightly, "Keep it. You'll need it for protection. I will ask Inias to get myself, Sam and Bobby some blades, but you keep mine." He reaches forward and gently touches Dean's hand, earning a wince from him. "Are you alright?"

"Is it broken? It feels like it's broken," Dean mumbles, letting Castiel take his hand. His knuckles are already bruising and Dean's cheek has a cut from Alfie's punch, but Castiel can heal him with a touch.

Castiel answers, "No, just a minor injury. I'll heal them." He covers Dean's hand with his own, and a soft glow illuminates their skin as Dean regains strength in his hand. When it's done, Castiel lets Dean's arm drop back to his side and he presses his hand against Dean's cheek where the cut is.

Dean leans into the touch and gets a look on his face that's equal parts anxious and dazed, and there's that wine red swimming in his eyes, only it's so strong this time that it can intoxicate Castiel if he looks long enough. Dean continues to stare at him silently as Castiel lets his powers do the work, closing up the cut on his face. When the glow subsides and Dean is as good as new, the staring drops to his lips, and it is shaky and uncertain.

When Castiel speaks, he realizes that his voice cracks a little, "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You're healed."

"Oh," Dean recollects himself, stepping away from Castiel. "Right. Sorry." A silence settles between them and it is strange because never before has it been this heavy. Dean clears his throat awkwardly and says, "We should go back to Bobby's, let them know we need a new plan with the angels."

"Yeah," Castiel says, nodding quickly. "We should."

They leave Alfie in the destroyed 7-Eleven, and the drive home is silent. 

**September 30, 2006**

[Found by Bobby in a drawer, scribbled all over with profanities on a crumpled blue sticky note]

_Dude, just tell Cas already. Aren't you tired yet?_


	18. Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Winchester!

_Once you do something, you never forget. Even if you can’t remember._   
**Spirited Away**

**October 4, 2006**

With the discovery of Alfie in the convenience store, Castiel and Dean had informed Bobby and Sam that they need a Plan B and maybe a C. With Castiel's direction, they reinforced the warding on Bobby's house and the Impala but otherwise leaving their bodily warding as is. Bobby suggests that they settle in his panic room and Castiel places it as a solid Plan D after Plan B is to wait and see what needs to be done and Plan C which is just Castiel and Inias going to check on the angels' progress.

Castiel has begun looking for Azazel, behind the brothers' backs. He thinks it will raise morale if he comes back with Azazel's head. However, Azazel is hard to locate and Castiel is limited by his situation. Nevertheless, he doesn't relent. He will bring them back a win.

Since the offbeat silence in the 7-Eleven, Dean and Castiel haven't brought it up again, choosing instead to forget it ever happened. Which is fine with Castiel, because it's not like he even understands what it means to begin with. He tries not to think about the way Dean's eyes turned to wine and rose when their attention fell to Castiel's lips. He tries not to think about the want in his chest and the way time seemed to stop, and it was just the two of them.

Castiel has successfully been keeping angels away from Bobby's house, regularly going out into the more crowded areas of South Dakota to find spies. Inias helps him out as well while keeping a low profile. No angel that has seen Inias fight alongside Castiel makes it out alive to tell on him. Castiel deeply appreciates Inias's help, he isn't sure if he alone is enough to kill every single angel when he comes out barely alive from some of the battles when he is vastly outnumbered.

In those instances, Castiel drags himself through the front door of Bobby's house and collapses onto the floor, and then Dean is by his side to clean him up in the bathroom. Sometimes, Dean gives him cartoon-decorated band-aids just to cheer him up even though he doesn't need it. The latest addition is a small one on Castiel's cheek of the Millenium Falcon.

Now, Sam and Dean are contemplating contacting Charlie Bradbury for help, assuming that she knows all the good hiding spots in the country given her history of changing her identity and running from her past. Bobby encourages them to go and he assures them he'll be fine with Castiel's protection spells and the angel blade Inias had obtained for him.

Castiel sits quietly while Sam is on the phone with Charlie. Dean drinks Bobby's beer straight out of the bottle. Castiel watches Dean's throat work as he downs the cheap alcohol and there's a flicker of what Castiel thinks is a memory, some time ago in a bar. A flash of Dean's wide smile, a bartender cleaning a shot glass. Dean's laugh sounds like Castiel's hearing it underwater, muffled but there. Castiel distinctly recalls the feeling of his throat being dry when he sees Dean, and then he snaps right back to reality. Dean raises his eyebrows at him, silently asking if he's okay. Castiel looks away.

"Hey, Charlie," Sam says, pacing around the room as he talks. "I need to ask you a huge favor... Yeah, I can give backstory. It's gonna sound pretty insane." Sam holds up a finger to both of them before he retreats into the next room to explain their situation to Charlie.

Dean sets the bottle down on the table. "How are you holding up?"

"I should be asking you and Sam that," Castiel replies. "How are you both?"

"A little better. Still angry as hell and I wanna catch the bastard, but I'm better than, you know," Dean says, regarding his minor breakdown before they fought Alfie. "And Sam's doing fine, at least in front of me. He's just more driven now."

"I'm here if you need me," Castiel says. The corner of Dean's mouth lifts in silent thanks.

"How's your angel hunt?" Dean asks.

"I'm afraid we will have to get Charlie's help. I don't think Inias and I can hold them off for much longer. The more time we stay here for, the more angels they're sending to South Dakota to search every inch. We'll need to relocate until we have a more stable plan," Castiel answers. It's become a worry for him, the Winchesters' safety. The number of angels sent to South Dakota is steadily rising with every passing day and Castiel is outnumbered almost every time. It's pure luck that Castiel hasn't been killed or too fatally injured yet.

"A 'more stable plan' implies you have a semi-stable plan," Dean says, leaning into his chair. "Run it by me?"

"Inias and I will bring you and your brother to Heaven," Castiel starts slowly. Dean's eyes widen as Castiel continues, "Up there, we will hide you in my heaven while I locate where Heaven is containing Good and Evil. They are likely in the Empty. Inias will make sure nobody finds you in my absence. When I know where they are, I will handle it. You in my heaven is just a precaution. We may move you to Inias's in the case that mine is too predictable. We'll alter the plan as we go."

"Cas, this is risky as hell," Dean gapes. "This is _semi-stable_?"

"You asked to hear my plan. This is all I have," Castiel replies.

Dean leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and he is blue with concern. "What do you mean you're gonna handle it?"

"I will handle it," Castiel repeats.

Dean asks again, insistent, "What do you mean?"

"You won't like it."

"Tell me."

Castiel says, careful like he's testing the waters, "I will ensure that you and Sam will not need to be their vessels."

"And why's that?" Dean questions.

"Because I will take them both," Castiel finally says. "I will inhabit both. You and Sam will remain safe."

Dean instantly argues, "Hell no! Cas, you might die! Aren't they like super powerful cosmic entities?"

"I am a cosmic entity," Castiel points out.

"You are not doing this," Dean says and Castiel can sense his rising panic even if it doesn't show on his face. He's scared, Castiel thinks if he's reading the colours correctly.

Castiel says simply, "That is my plan. Unless you come up with a better one, that will be the one we will be using."

Before Dean can try to improvise a different plan, Sam returns, saying, "Okay, Charlie's gonna swing by in a couple of days, help us out. She knows this safe house in Austin we could use." He pauses, eyeing Castiel and Dean with narrowed eyes. "Okay, this feels weird. What happened?"

"Cas has a death wish apparently," Dean mutters.

"It's not a death wish," Castiel tries. "I said I would be the vessel for both Good and Evil to spare you both."

Sam frowns, thinking it over, "Won't you die?"

"Thank you," Dean sighs heavily, running his hands over his face as he stares at Castiel.

"We'll discuss this another time." Castiel stands, tired of the discussion and not eager to anger Dean any more than he already has with his slipshod plan. He's honestly not even sure if he can inhabit both at the same time since they're separate cosmic entities, and so he is also unsure if he will die or not if he goes through with it. Sam calls Castiel back to talk him out of it but Castiel leaves the room, ending their conversation.

Castiel settles in Bobby's room. Bobby had gone out to meet a fellow hunter who might be able to help with the angels which meant that his room will be empty. It's perfect since Castiel doesn't really want to have any company while he consolidates his thoughts. He can hear Sam and Dean talking loudly but he tunes them out.

Sam has always been the more level-headed between the brothers, and he's obviously taking the plan much better than Dean is. Castiel doesn't want Dean to be angry at him. Not him, anyone but him. But he also doesn't really have a choice. The longer they drag this on, the less time they will have to formulate a plan that they know will work. Yes, Castiel doesn't know if his current plan will succeed, but it's at least something, which is better than nothing.

He doesn't know why Dean is making a big deal out of it and getting mad. It's not like Castiel is that important anyway, right? Inias can step in if Castiel checks out. Fear shoves the reminder of how replaceable angels are into the forefront of his mind, and then Castiel is spiraling and he can't stop. He doesn't want to be replaceable to Dean. Yes, he wants Inias to protect him if he can't do it himself, but he doesn't want to be replaced. Castiel wants Dean to want him too, not just whoever can do the job.

But what do you give to a man who has everything he needs? Castiel doesn’t know what to do with himself or with Dean. He doesn’t know what to say if Dean wants him back and realizes that he’s better off without him. Castiel feels like he does nothing but brings problems to Dean’s door and sometimes he looks in the mirror and wonders why Dean still keeps him around. Castiel wishes that he knew what he could do to keep Dean from ever seeing the worst sides of him.

And Dean is just always busy with problems bigger than Castiel’s which always end up seeming more like minor burdens to the bigger picture. Dean doesn’t even need Castiel around. He’s got enough friends of his own and can easily make more -- he’s so likable and pleasant -- and Castiel can’t keep his own around. Dean has people to talk to that Castiel sometimes wonders where exactly he fits in the jigsaw puzzle that is Dean’s life. He just wishes that there’s something Dean would need one day, something so astounding and beautiful that Castiel can give him, to convince Dean that he is needed, he is necessary and he should keep him around _please Dean, please, I don’t want you to cast me aside, I don't think I could live without you._

_What do you give to the man who has everything before he realizes his life is much better without you?_

Castiel doesn’t blame Dean for not wanting him back. He isn’t sure if he even wanted himself around either.

**October 9, 2006**

[Found by Sam and thrown into the trash bin, on a beer-stained notepad]

_Fuck, I hate this._

_I hate your plan. I hate that you're being so fucking selfish with that plan. I hate that I can't think of another plan. I hate that you're actually selfless. I hate that I know I'd do the same if I was you._

_I hate that I can't tell you why I hate this plan so much. I hate that I can't even breathe when I think about you dying. I hate that I can't tell you I love you._ _I hate that I can't kiss you. I hate that you will never feel the same way._

_This fucking sucks. I hate you, I hate you, I hate_

_No, I don't._

_God damn it Cas, I wish I hated you. It would have been so much easier._

**October 15, 2006**

**[October 15, 2006, 3:16 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** Dean?  
 **Castiel Novak:** I think you are asleep. I will just continue sending these.  
 **Castiel Novak:** I know my plan is not to your liking.  
 **Castiel Novak:** I am willing to hear any other plan you have in mind. We will consider all the options.  
 **Castiel Novak:** I should have consulted you. I recall you saying about your father that it’s your fight too, not his alone.  
 **Castiel Novak:** I know now that that is a lesson I must learn as well. You are in this as much as I am, and I owe you the right to react to my ideas however you do.  
 **Castiel Novak:** But I’m unsure why it bothered you so much. The loss of me won’t be so great. You can always find another angel. Inias is willing to take my place in your protection.  
 **Castiel Novak:** Either way, I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry I upset you.  
 **Castiel Novak:** Rest well.

 **[October 15, 2006, 7:41 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** I’m not mad at you, I’m just mad that I don’t know how to go about this so that you survive this. Truth is, I don’t think I can just move on if you died. Especially if it was for me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, I think.  
 **Dean Winchester:** And what the hell does that mean, find another angel?  
 **Dean Winchester:** You have no idea. You have no idea that there isn’t another Cas out there. I don’t care if Inias wants to be our new babysitter or whatever. There’s only one you, and I want that Cas. I want you.  
 **Dean Winchester:** I love you so much, I don’t understand why you think you’re just another angel. You’re not, you have never been just another angel. I love you and I wish you just knew how fucking special you are.  
 **Dean Winchester:** I just don’t want to lose you. I can’t.

 **Error:** Service disconnected. Messages not delivered.

_Delete or try again?_

**[Delete]**

_Messages deleted._

**[October 15, 2006, 7:54 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** I’m not mad, Cas. Everything’s good with us, no need to apologize.

**October 23, 2006**

Castiel has been recalling tiny bits of his history lately. It's never anything substantial enough to serve any purpose. It's typically glimpses of small details. Often, the most stand-out colors of the scene. A long while ago, he'd remembered flames that consumed the room, a white dress, the smell of burning clothes and sirens. Just a few days ago, he remembered a bar, Dean's laugh and himself slowing to watch the way Dean moved. 

He doesn't have any idea where either of those two supposed memories takes place and he doesn't know if they are even real or just visions his mind came up with to fill the gaps. The bar scene certainly seemed familiar, at least. If Castiel focusses hard enough, he can feel the leather of the bar seat in his fingertips.

It's difficult to remember. Whenever Castiel gets one of his visions, he's instantly trying to grab it, drag it back to him and keep it, but he loses it every time. He never gets much from them to his dismay. Sam and Dean are right to assume someone has been wiping his memories, and Castiel is sure that it's been done more than once. The more time he spends with Dean, the more he recalls even if it's only minuscule details. Something is always better than nothing.

Castiel considered asking Dean, but he thinks he'd rather find out on his own. He wanted his own memories, not someone else's. He wanted his own perspective of events, wanted to know who he has always been all along.

Castiel is emotional by nature.

He can’t help it. When he saw God’s creation, humans, for the first time, he has to admit he hated them. Castiel has a feeling that he originally adored them, but all the memory erasure doesn't serve him well. Despite all the lost time, Castiel knows that over time, he came to love them. It’s true that humans were rude, and they lie, cheat and steal. They were mean and selfish. But they also dance and sing, and love and create art. And they care and protect, love and _exist_.

Now, isn't that beautiful?

* * *

Dean asks Castiel to meet him in his dreams so Castiel obeys, dream walking into Dean's slumber. He finds them in a different setting. Usually, Dean's dreams when Castiel is there would be at a small dock at a tranquil lake, and he will wait with a fishing rod for a fish that never comes.

This time, they're in one of Dean's other memories; a young Dean sits at the dining table as a blonde woman hisses into a phone, leaning against the kitchen counter with an apron tied around her waist. The sun spreads like butter across the wooden floorboards and the light catches the woman's hair in a way that made it look like gold.

"Is that..."

"My mom," Dean nods. "Mary."

Castiel and Dean watch quietly from the doorway as Mary argues quietly into the phone's receiver, constantly glancing back to check on young Dean. Castiel asks, "Who is she talking to?"

"My dad," Dean answers.

"I thought Sam said they were perfect," Castiel says. He remembered Sam saying something like that when he found out John passed away, on one of the nights Castiel spent with Sam to make sure he would be okay. Sam told him that the bits of Mary that John told him about, their marriage sounded flawless.

Dean smiles dryly, "Yeah, they were only perfect after she died."

Mary's voice rises just a bit too much and then young Dean is out of his chair, running over to hug her. Castiel asks, "Where's Sam?"

"Too young to care or remember," Dean replies. "You know, I was thinking about your memory problem. Maybe if you dream walked into my memories of us or something. Would that work?"

"I appreciate the suggestion, but I think I'd prefer to have my own memories. They're more personal," Castiel says gratefully. Young Dean grips Mary's waist tightly and she runs a gentle hand through his soft hair, continuing to speak to John.

"Your choice," Dean accepts. Mary ends the call abruptly and hangs the phone back up on the wall before following young Dean back to the table. She offers him more breakfast. "I don't want you to die, man."

"There's a chance I won't," Castiel says.

"But there's also a chance you will, and I can't take that chance," Dean replies. Mary and young Dean freeze in place, both laughing as if the phone call never happened. Dean steps forward so he can face Castiel fully. "This world fucking sucks as it is. It doesn't need to lose you too."

"What do you mean? I think your Earth is great," Castiel replies. He genuinely thought so. Though he had to spend time with humans to truly understand how spectacular the planet and their kind are, he appreciated it nonetheless.

"This world's kind of a huge mistake," Dean says, in a tone that made it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Too much has gone wrong. You know, with this planet, us. Me."

Castiel says steadily, “Where there's bad, there's also good. It is truly... beautiful, to see what you all have created on your own. Us angels, and maybe God, might have made some mistakes in our lives, but I don’t think you are one of them, Dean.”

Dean nods, pressing his lips together as if hesitant, but he eventually asks, "I asked you before if angels can love things, the way humans do."

Castiel shrugs and his fingers unconsciously pick at the corner of the dining table. "I am... uncertain of what you're asking. Angels can love things. I love music, for example."

"I mean in like, a romantic way," Dean says, his soul flushing a deep maroon like he's already regretting asking. "Or whatever."

Castiel tries to find an answer that would satisfy Dean, "Akobel managed to, I think you may recall that. But it's rare. There's a reason why the angels were surprised to find out what has happened to Akobel, it doesn't happen."

"And for you? Do you think you would be able to?" Dean adds, moving slowly across the room to the other side of the table, next to Mary.

"I don't even know what love feels like," Castiel admits, casting his gaze downwards. "I know wanting, I know need, but I don't know what love is, exactly."

Dean stands quietly after that and the seconds drag on like centuries until eventually, Dean has to wake up.

**October 29, 2006**

[Found by Sam, sticking out under Dean's bed, on scrap paper]

_You told me you didn't know what love felt like. I'll tell you._

_Every time you answered my prayers. The time you ate Jess's food even though it tasted really bad to you because you didn't want to ruin Christmas. When you came into the nightclub to look for me even though it was a "den of iniquity" and you weren't allowed to. When you told me you liked me when I said you were pretty great. The first time you said, "I'm sorry" instead of "my apologies"._

_When you stayed the night with me and you broke us out of that holding cell. I grabbed your wrist as we ran out and then you smiled for the first time._

_It's when I got Bobby to run all those tests on you because I just wanted you to be safe. When I let you go. When you let me talk about Jess in that alley even though you didn't really know me anymore. It's when you told us you were gonna rebel to keep us safe._ _The time you kept apologizing for things that weren't even your fault, and you were back to saying "I'm sorry"._

_When you smiled for the first time again. God, I can't get tired of that smile._

_The time you told me what my soul looked like. When you help me with my pointless crosswords late at night, and when you showed me your wings even though I can't actually see them. When you remembered that stupid "Carpet Damn" thing from one of my old letters to Sam. That look on your face when you took back your trench coat._

_You wore my amulet and it looked just right. That time at like 4 in the morning when you texted me half an hour later to tell me to go to sleep. It's when you went looking for Calvin and Hobbes because I told you I liked the comics in the papers._

_When Jimmy Novak looked fucking nothing like you and I just wanted to get you back. He didn't have your eyes and his hair stands up the wrong way and his smile just wasn't the same._

_When you hugged me when I prayed to you and it was the safest I have ever felt even though I couldn't see you._ _When you healed me in that 7-11 and I could just stay there forever. I've never been happier than when I was standing there with the broken machines and destroyed shelves and_ you _._

_You told me you didn't know what love felt like and it's always been there._

_Love feels like_ this _, Cas._


	19. P.S. I Love You

_The good things will always be here waiting for you._  
**How I Met Your Mother**

**November 8, 2006**

Castiel has located Azazel.

It's not difficult for angels to find things and people, but it did take longer for this search with angels on his tail and with Azazel being a high-ranking demon enough to hide better. Nonetheless, Castiel has found him and is now confronting him in some abandoned warehouse, of all cliché supervillain places. If Dean was there, he might have rolled his eyes.

"I don't believe we've met," Azazel sneers. "Who are you?"

"Castiel," he says, leaving out that he is an angel of the Lord. He's not sure how true that is anymore and he knows he no longer wants to be one.

"A friend of the Winchesters, I take it," Azazel says steadily, pacing slowly. Perhaps in an attempt to intimidate him, but it's hard to scare Castiel.

Castiel states flatly, "You killed John Winchester."

"I did. I wanted to collect what I was owed and he kept getting in my way," Azazel mockingly frowns, stopping when he's only inches away from Castiel. "I told him that if he let me do my business, I'd let him walk but he just refused to listen. Are his boys this stubborn?"

Ignoring his question, Castiel decides instead to pick at a different detail, "What you were owed. What is it?" Maybe he could come to a compromise with him and deal with Azazel after the business with Heaven is settled. He could get Azazel what he's looking for and get him to back off, and he will simply kill him another time in the future.

"My child," Azazel answers glibly. "Samuel Winchester."

Castiel's eyebrows knit together in confusion and he turns his head slightly to look at Azazel. "What do you mean by that?"

"I fed him my blood when he was a baby. You see, his mother sold him out to save dear Johnny," Azazel explains. "He was dead and she made a deal with me to save his life, and I came to collect ten years later."

"You gave Sam your blood instead of taking Mary's soul," Castiel mutters, looking down at the ground instead of Azazel's grin. "But you killed her anyway."

"I warned her not to disturb me. She got in my way, same as John," Azazel shrugs nonchalantly, still standing uncomfortably close to Castiel. "So, I get that Thing 1 and Thing 2 are after me, but what I don't get is what _you're_ doing here."

Castiel refuses to put distance between them, knowing Azazel will only take joy from his displeasure, so he maintains their proximity. "What do you want to do with Sam?"

"I want the strongest kid. Sam isn't the only one with my blood running around," Azazel smiles. Castiel leans away slightly when Azazel comes closer just to make him squirm. "There'll be a competition. Fight to the death. Gotta say Sam's got my vote."

Castiel asks, "Is there anything I can do for you to come to an understanding that does not include giving up Sam Winchester?" He figures if they're going to compromise, now is his only chance at trying.

"Not really," Azazel scoffs, finally backing away. Castiel lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "I want the boy."

"You will have to go through me," Castiel warns. "The Winchesters are under my protection."

"You see, I've heard about that," Azazel says, grinning once more. Castiel despises looking at demons. He's sure that to human eyes, they're not so bad, but all he sees is horns, blood, guts and so many more grotesque details that he's tempted to look away. "Word travels fast when people have got an actual angel perched on their shoulders, at their every beck and call. I heard you've got a soft spot for the other one. Dean, is it? I heard you killed your own for him."

" _Enough_ ," Castiel grits his teeth.

"Did I strike a nerve?" Azazel taunts. "All those rumors were right, weren't they? You're the angel that's got Heaven after your head over one human. I didn't think you would be the sentimental kind. Of course... unless it's not out of sentimentality. You love that Dean, don't you?"

"If you don't stop talking --"

Azazel just grins, relishing Castiel's irritation, "Yeah, you _do_. You know, I've never met an angel but I thought they don't do this. This _love_ thing. It makes me think. What would be your limits be, how far would you go to protect him? Having an angel wrapped around your finger must be a huge plus. Maybe I've been after the wrong Winchester all along --"

Castiel's angel blade slips into his hand and he lunges forward at Azazel. The demon jumps out of the way and grabs Castiel's coat, punching him in the face twice before throwing him down onto the ground. Castiel gets back up and he misses stabbing Azazel with his blade as he moved too slow. Azazel grins and grabs his wrist, twisting it hard enough to loosen Castiel's grip on the blade and it drops.

Castiel tries to reclaim it but Azazel stops him, taking the back of Castiel's head and slamming it against his own. Castiel tries to reach out and touch Azazel to kill him but Azazel stays out of his reach, kicking him in the stomach. Castiel stumbles back and Azazel picks up the blade, holding it between them.

"Someone's protective," Azazel teases as Castiel freezes in his spot at the blade. "Does he know?"

"There's nothing to know," Castiel mutters. "Don't touch the Winchesters."

"Or just the one?" Azazel asks, inching forward with the blade still pointed towards the angel. "I can imagine it already, with all that I've heard about you. Following him like a lost dog. What happens when he kicks you to the curb, hm? You're not the only angel zipping around this planet and every other feathered friend wants him _bad_."

Castiel ducks just as Azazel tries to impale him with the angel blade and steps behind him, kicking out one of his knees. Azazel falls and loses his grip on the weapon, giving Castiel an opening to retrieve it. Castiel presses a knee to Azazel's back to keep him down and he pushes the demon's face into the dirty ground.

"I told you to be quiet," Castiel grunts.

Castiel's hand begins to glow, ready to eviscerate Azazel, but the demon suddenly pushes up on his elbows, toppling Castiel. Azazel takes advantage of catching him off guard to get the angel blade, pressing it up against Castiel's neck. Castiel stops moving, holding his breath as the blade presses into his skin hard enough for him to see a crack of grace coming out.

"Azazel," Castiel rasps. "Stop."

"You were gonna kill me first. It's a dog eat dog world," Azazel shrugs, trying to go deeper but dragging it on so Castiel will suffer longer.

 _Inias, I need your help. Find Azazel. I'm there. Please, Inias_ , Castiel prays mentally, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to lean as far back from the blade as he can. With his grace starting to leak out of the wound, he's too distracted with getting away to be able to physically move Azazel himself. Castiel tries to pull Azazel's arm backward away from him and he barely succeeds as Azazel tightens his grip around him and moves it closer.

 _Balthazar. Find Azazel. Help me._ When nobody answers, Castiel decides to try his luck. _Anael, please, if you are there. I need your help. Find Azazel._

Castiel abruptly stops his prayers, closing his mouth as he desperately tries to keep himself contained. He can feel his grace about to burst right out with how deep Azazel has driven the blade in. Azazel's sharp nails leave gashes on his side. Azazel mocks, "Where you're going, nothing's gonna matter. Might as well give up."

Azazel suddenly drops the blade and stumbles backward. Castiel falls and rubs at his throat, turning to see what happened. Anael, in the vessel of a redhead woman, had dragged him back and punched him hard enough to tip over. She bends forward to pull him back up, restraining him long enough for Castiel to reach out and grab him, killing Azazel with his powers.

Castiel rocks back down to the ground as Azazel's dead, burnt-out vessel crumbles when Anael laxes her grip on it.

"You're alive," Castiel says, staring wide-eyed up at her.

"Yeah, Castiel," she replies, offering him an apologetic smile. "Hi."

As it turns out, Anael had possessed her vessel, a chance that arose when Sister Jo offered up her body in exchange for Anael healing her husband. She ran a similar business to Balthazar, committing acts of miracles for the price of human souls. Castiel doesn't like the idea of it but he knows Anael and Balthazar won't stop just because their friend wants them to.

"A lot of talking on the cosmic radio I'm hearing about you," Anael says. They've found a place in a nearby park to just sit and talk.

Castiel tries not to roll his eyes, a habit he's seen Dean do a number of times. "About the Winchesters? Or just the one?"

"I heard a lot," she replies, looking out at a child on his bicycle, relying on the training wheels not to fall. "Can you tell me what's been going on with you?"

"I was tasked to protect them because Heaven has plans for them," Castiel explains, interlacing his fingers together. "At first, I hated the job and I hated them. I especially despised Dean because he made me feel things and angels are supposed to feel _nothing_. But I decided to put my resentment aside and work with them when I found out why Heaven wanted them." He looks down at the ground like he doesn't want to see any impending look of judgment on her face. "But the more time I spent with them, with Dean, I started to feel more... Be more than I have always been, and for the first time in my life, I found friends." He pauses, "No offense."

"Well, I think I've been a bad friend. No offense taken," Anael chuckles. "Go on."

"And... and Dean, he..." Castiel trails off, trying to find the right words. "I feel like I have something to look forward to. You know, we live for thousands, maybe millions of years, and everything becomes more of the same over time. Nothing excites you anymore, there are no more firsts. But Dean is just so _new_. His soul, you'd have to see it for yourself. It is truly beautiful, no other like it."

Anael listens with a faint smile on her face. He notices it and cocks his head in question, "What?"

"I heard everyone talking all about the angel on Dean Winchester's shoulder, but I didn't believe it until I heard it from you," Anael says. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"

"I don't --"

"Don't know what love feels like?" Anael fills in. "Castiel, think about everything you just told me about Dean. If that's not loving, I don't know what is."

Castiel and Anael don't talk much after that, simply sitting quietly as they listen to the laughter and chattering in a wave of wordless noise. 

**November 15, 2006**

[Found by Charlie, torn in two and throw in the trash can, on blue notebook paper]

_Dear Cas,_

_Charlie has a whole lot of empty notebooks in her safe house. I don't know why I'm using this fucking blue papered notebook. I think because it reminds me of your eyes and I like your eyes._

_I can't fucking believe Azazel is dead. Sam told me he wished we were there and yeah, maybe so, but I think I'm more glad that the bastard is gone. I think I've felt just a little more at ease now that that's one thing less to deal with. Yay for rebellion, right?_

_The thing about Sam and the demon blood... I think we should just keep it from Sam. I know this will just stress him out and since Azazel's gone and can't collect on whatever debt he was owed, then it won't matter. He's lived all this time without knowing and he's been doing great. He can live the rest of his life without knowing. I know, I know. We should be completely transparent, but with the Heaven business still looming over us, I don't see why I need to bother Sam with this when it doesn't matter anymore. Maybe in the future, I'll tell him._

_Either way, thank you for killing Azazel. If anyone else had to kill him that wasn't me and Sam, then I'm glad it was you._

_I still don't like the plan and yet the only other plan I can come up with is that Sam and I just give ourselves up anyway. Angel vs two humans is pretty much a no-brainer and I know this won't fly by you. Most of my other plans include us making Good and Evil go kaput but I doubt we can pull that off on our own. It's like, what, killing Death. I don't know. Another one was that we could force another angel to take them. Maybe Naomi or that asshole captain of yours. Just not you._

_I just don't know why you have to die because Heaven decided to be a douchebag and fuck up our lives._

_Well, I was gonna give this letter to you but I mentioned Naomi and you still don't know about that, so I guess this one's going in the trash and I can now write whatever the hell I wanna write._

_So, you. You've been acting weird lately. I don't know how to describe it. You keep looking at me even though you don't end up saying anything. And when you're gonna leave the room, you stay just a while longer before you go. You get this look in your eyes when I laugh when you think I can't see._

_I don't like getting my hopes up. Every time I'm hopeful about something, it comes to bite me in the ass. I don't want to believe that maybe the way you've been looking at me is the same reason that I get so happy around you. Mostly because it seems too good to be true, you know? Like you're a literal fucking angel, and I'm just some guy._

_And with your dumbass cosmic plan, I feel like we might not have as much time as we should have. I get that, you know, and I want to tell you how I feel, but I don't wanna ruin things between us, so I'd rather have you as my best friend than just destroy whatever time we might have left._

_I'm sorry, Cas. I think we were just unlucky enough to find each other in the wrong place and the wrong time. Maybe some other time, some other life or whatever, if that exists, it would've been perfect. A different vessel, a different soul._

_But just know that I love you, and that's enough for now._

_Love,_  
_Dean_

**November 19, 2006**

It was all so new and so normal and so _easy_ , falling in love with Dean.

In all his journey of navigating human emotion and learning how to differentiate one color from the next when Dean's soul lights up all sorts of shades and tints, he'd finally found the one emotion that he never even dreamed of touching. _Love_. The one thing that made humans so special, that angels could never grasp, and Castiel got to taste it. He got to have it as his best friend and he got to hold it to himself in firework embraces.

Castiel can't get any luckier than the moment he'd met Dean. Heaven no longer wanted him back and he may be driving to certain death with his plan, but he felt higher than anything. He loves Dean Winchester.

Sam and Charlie act strangely around the two of them. Sam always looks at Dean with dull lavender frustration and Charlie watches with cobalt heartache if Castiel is reading them correctly. He has no idea why they regard them the way they do, but Dean has wine-red sparking like fireworks when Castiel walks into the room.

Charlie had suggested that they both go to pick up supplies since she was running low in the safe house (warded completely by Castiel, both by markings on the wall and sigils only he can see). Dean agreed and Castiel went along, which means they are now both alone in the Impala, Led Zeppelin playing on low volume. _What Is And What Should Never Be_ plays and Castiel remembers fighting Ishim.

"Everything's gonna be over soon," Dean suddenly breaks the silence, making Castiel glance at him. "You know, Azazel's dead, angels will probably find us soon and then we'll do your plan."

"It will be over soon," Castiel echoes, looking out of the window to see the lampposts zoom past. "How are you feeling?

"Excited to be free again," Dean answers. "And tired of it."

"I know how you feel. It's exhausting to be on the run all the time. From Hell, from Heaven. From yourself," Castiel says. He'd said the last bit unconsciously and he only belatedly realizes he's said it aloud.

Dean specifies, "From yourself?"

"Nothing."

Dean casts him a look, "Cas, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Dean. If it was of import, I promise you will be notified," Castiel says. "Can you talk to me about something else, distract me?"

Dean tries again, "Cas, really. If something's bothering you, just tell me. It's no trouble. You killed the one thing that's haunted me and Sam our entire lives. This is nothing. Cas?"

"Tell me about a time when you were happy," Castiel requests quietly. When it's obvious to Dean that Castiel refuses to elaborate any further, he decides to humor him, but he gives him a warning look that means this isn't the end of that conversation. He's just doing for Castiel what he did for him the other time when he told him about his Heaven before Dean could break down in the car about John.

"My dream, it's a memory," Dean starts. "Dad took me fishing a couple of times when I was a kid. I wasn't half bad, actually. Caught a bunch. You know, maybe when I'm all old and useless and I've hung up the hunter title, I'll just sit and fish."

"It's a peaceful hobby," Castiel agrees.

"The one in my dream, Dad was in a really good mood that day and Mom wanted to make fish for lunch, so he suggested that we go get some fresh ones for her. She stayed home with Sammy while I went with him."

"How did it go?"

“It was really nice, you know? He pulled the fish off of the bait and he turns to me, he says he’s proud of me,” Dean says, grinning over at Castiel.

 _I love you_ , Castiel thinks, watching that ecstatic smile under the dim streetlights.

Dean chuckles, shaking his head in a way that Castiel knows is meant to be ridiculing himself. “Back then, that’s all I need. It’s still all I need, but that was enough to make me happy all day long. I caught ten more fish after that. One had plastic caught in its tail and I got it out, let that one go back in the water.”

 _I love you._ Castiel bites his lower lip, feels the words on the tip of his tongue.

“Dad just laughed, you know. Said I was a lot like Mom. Hey, funny thing about my mom, she used to tell me and Sammy that angels were watching over us,” Dean says, mind drifting off to slightly nicer thoughts. “I guess that’s true, huh? Look at you.”

 _I love you._ Castiel tries to push it down.

Dean laughs, something soft and half-hearted, and says, “And, uh, she wouldn’t sing those popular nursery rhymes to get us to sleep. She sang _Hey Jude_ by The Beatles. I remember you saying you liked their stuff, right? Yeah, that was her lullaby. Sam and I always went out like a light. Worked wonders. It was her favorite song.”

 _I love you._ Castiel glances over at Dean and he watches the yellow light from roadside lamps illuminating his face as they drive past.

Dean looks back at Castiel and they connect eyes. His soul is pale but it reflects the lamp lights. “But, uh, things are different now, you know? They’re not here anymore and we’re all not the same people we used to be. And I think that that’s just it. Sometimes I just wish I didn’t feel a damn thing.”

“Your ability to feel is what makes you so great, Dean. It takes courage to feel everything you do and keep going. Your parents would have been proud of you,” Castiel offers sincerely. “And...”

“And?”

 _And I love you._ Heat pricks his neck and ice fills his veins. “And I’m glad you’re here.”

If he were human, Castiel would be nothing but a coward. He is irretrievably in love with Dean, and he's more than certain Dean does not feel the same.

**November 24, 2006**

[Found by Dean in his jacket pocket and thrown away, on a folded Star Wars notebook paper]

_DEAN. TELL CAS ALREADY. It's so tiring to see you two dance around like this. Sam wasn't kidding when he said you two are awfully painful to watch._

_I know times are trying right now, but that just means you gotta make the most of what you have left! No better time than the present._

_Charlie_

**November 30, 2006**

Turn on airplane mode?

**[Turn on]**

**[November 30, 2006, 9:29 PM]**  
**Dean Winchester:** Wow, I’m texting you at a godly hour for once. Now THAT’S a miracle.  
**Dean Winchester:** Yeah, my phone’s on goddamn airplane mode so these won’t send. I’m a coward. Bite me.  
**Dean Winchester:** So, you said Inias will tell us the moment Heaven lets its guard down enough for us to do a little B&E. It could be tomorrow, it could be after Christmas. I don’t know. I’m willing to wait. It means more time with you.  
**Dean Winchester:** Time’s different for you angels, right? Like this shit could have us waiting a while. My life is like a blink of an eye to you, I think.  
**Dean Winchester:** Anyway, no matter what happens, I love you.  
**Dean Winchester:** I wish you’ll tell me what’s bothering you lately. If it’s the Good/Evil thing, we’ll figure it out, okay?

 **Error:** Airplane mode. Messages not delivered.

Delete or try again?

**[Delete]**

Messages deleted.


	20. A Taste Of Honey

_You are ready to die in this swimming pool_   
_because you wanted to touch his hands and lips_   
_and this means your life is over anyway._   
**Richard Siken**

**December 4, 2006**

Dean saw a rainbow when he woke up that morning. The strangest thing was that it came without rain. When he asked Cas, he was told that it's an angelic sign that everything will be okay. Cas said it didn't come from him, so Dean thinks that maybe, just maybe, someone's looking out for them, and things really will be okay.

The day is fine. There's no new information regarding the angels since they'd moved out of Bobby's and into Charlie's safe house, where Cas juiced up the warding so it's even harder to locate them. Inias told them that it may be a while before an opening is available for them to creep through Heaven's gates as it's mayhem, angels bustling about desperately trying to find the Winchesters and their rogue angel. Things are good on Bobby's end as well. Cas left the warding there and since Sam and Dean weren't there, they left Bobby alone. He didn't know where Charlie's place was anyway and served no purpose to their search.

Dean wakes up feeling good. It's like he has hope, for once, that something will go right. Inias had been kind enough to promise to look out for Cas and them and talking to Sam and Charlie the handful of times he was willing to open up have helped. On the days when Cas's borderline suicidal plan to save him and Sam isn't the first thing in his head when he wakes, it actually seems good, like he can take whatever punches are thrown when they come.

He's not sure where the good mood is coming from. He had a thought that maybe it's one of Cas's powers as an angel, improving someone's morale, but he doesn't think to ask. He thanks Cas mentally though. He's sure nothing can make him feel as light as he does that isn't Cas. He's in a happy state of mind when he washes up and gets dressed and he wishes he always felt like this.

His feet shuffle against the floorboards as he leaves his room to the main area, where Charlie is eating cereal and Sam is already on his laptop, probably checking if there are any angel sightings nearby.

"Where's Cas?" Dean asks.

Charlie's mouth lifts at the sides, a smile spreading wide across her face. "You can't be apart for more than a minute, can you?"

"Not a second, even," Sam mumbles, sipping at his coffee while he peers at Dean over the cup.

"Just answer the question," Dean replies, deciding to just eat cereal since Charlie already has the box out. Charlie happily pours milk into his honey stars after he's done.

"He went to scout the town, check for any angels. Relax, he'll be back soon," Sam replies, leaning back into his seat and away from the screen, taking a break for his eyes. When he sees the smile on Dean's face, he can't help but grin, saying, "Someone's in a good mood. What's up?"

Charlie turns to him excitedly, "Did something happen between you and Cas?"

" _No_ ," Dean answers, lightly pushing Charlie's face away. "That's not flying any time soon. Anyway, I don't know. I just feel good today. Something's gonna happen, I can feel it."

"Okay, Mr. Optimistic," Sam laughs. "But it's good to see you happy for once, you know."

"What isn't there to be happy about? You know, ignoring all Heaven-related crap, I've got you and Charlie, Bobby is safe, Azazel's dead, Cas and Inias said Dad's at peace and Cas is my best friend," Dean rattles off. He does feel especially lucky today.

"I like this side of you. So soft," Charlie coos, leaning into Dean's side. "Our boy Dean is in _love_."

Dean rolls his eyes, although he's still smiling. He eats a spoonful of cereal and says, "Shut up."

"First off, don't talk when you're chewing," Sam says, exaggeratingly grimacing. "Second, _dude_. Tell him already. I didn't even wait this long to ask out that girl I liked in high school. Do you hear that? You're worse than a _high schooler_."

Dean continues talking with his mouth full just to rile Sam up, "Okay, man. Different situations. You and that girl's biggest problem was getting question five done on the math homework before class. Our biggest problem is two cosmic beings. You can't compare."

"I guess I just don't see the big deal, you know?" Sam shrugs. "You love him, he loves you."

"No, he doesn't," Dean waves dismissively, eating his breakfast.

Charlie swats his arm. "You are a dumbass, Dean Winchester."

Before Dean can say anything, a knock on the door has Dean up on his feet, saying he'll get the door. When he opens, a grin splits across his face at the sight of Cas. "Hey, welcome home."

"Good morning, Dean," Cas smiles, warm and sunny. The rest of Dean's day remains quiet and slow, and he is simply happy.

**December 12, 2006**

[Found by Dean and crushed to be disposed of, on spiral notebook paper]

_Cas,_

_He loves you._

**December 18, 2006**

Inias checks in on Castiel's heaven. It had been by Castiel's request and Inias doesn't see why not.

It looks brand new, though he heard other angels say Ishim trashed it, burned the whole place down to its last atom. Nothing can get truly destroyed here, thankfully. Inias quite likes Castiel's heaven, it would have been a shame if Ishim's damage was permanent. The spring sun smiles softly across the gentle waves of the lake that laps against the edge and it is completely peaceful.

"Pretty. So pretty."

Inias doesn't respond, only sparing the man a glance, until Ishim appears.

"What are you doing here?" Ishim questions.

"Just checking, sir," Inias answers, turning to face him. "If Castiel has come back."

Ishim nods, partially convinced but no longer pushing the matter, "New orders from the higher-ups. Let the Winchesters and rebel settle down. Let them think we won't be coming for a while, and then get them when they're happy when they're not expecting to get uprooted."

"But we don't know where they are," Inias says, confused.

"That's what we want them to think," Ishim laughs. "Austin, Texas. Jophiel spotted their redhead friend walking around."

"What will we do when the time comes?" Inias asks, keeping his tone neutral and face blank.

"They will tell us when it's time," Ishim replies. "For now, you know all I know."

Ishim disappears then, and Inias sits down in the grass, quietly watching the clouds move with the breeze. He'd heard Castiel's plan and he despised it, but if it's what he truly wants to do then he supposes he has no right to warn him against it. He knows Castiel won't listen to him. He only hopes Dean Winchester will be enough.

**December 25, 2006**

Castiel makes a gift for Dean.

Inias had informed him about what Ishim told him, so Castiel decides that there's really nothing they can do but wait. He knows that when they want to make their move, they will want more power, which means more angels to corner and coerce them to go, which means that's their opening to sneak into Heaven and hide Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean agreed with the plan to sit back and just remain on stand by.

With that in mind, Castiel is sure there's time to make a present for Dean.

According to Sam and Dean, the phone he has was a gift from the elder Winchester, many years ago in his mess of erased memories. He supposes that if he will be going to his death any time now, he should return the gesture before he does.

It's not anything big, just a necklace to replace the amulet Dean gave him. Castiel still wears it and he feels its weight against his chest. It feels like he has Dean with him no matter where either of them is. It's assuring somehow, having the amulet.

The necklace Castiel created for Dean is a simple gold band he'd found on one of Charlie's old unused keychains. It's almost like a halo; at least, what humans think halos look like. With Charlie's permission, Castiel took it and hung it on a black cord. For finishing touches, he'd cast a protective spell on the gold band so it would keep Dean safe when Castiel can't be there.

He decided to ask Sam if Dean would find it an acceptable present and the moment he pulls the necklace out of his coat, Sam almost falls out of his chair.

"Cas, what is that?"

"A golden keyring Charlie gave me," Castiel explains, frowning in confusion.

Sam relaxes a bit, bright purple surprise dimming. "Jesus. You shocked me there."

"Why? What did you think it was?" Castiel questions.

"Nothing, nothing," Sam waves it off. "My mistake. Did you do something to the ring?"

"Protection spell," Castiel answers.

Sam smiles at that, taking the necklace from Castiel to get a closer look, "He'll love whatever you give him, man. Go for it."

Castiel suddenly feels awkward, showing Sam Dean's present without having one for him and he glances around to find something. He sees that Sam has a ring on his finger; he recalls Dean saying it used to belong to Jessica Moore. Castiel moves forward and gently touches the ring, muttering a protection spell under his breath. Sam asks, "What are you doing?"

"Protection," Castiel replies. "I know whose ring that was. I thought it would be a nice gesture."

"It is. Thanks, Cas," Sam says quietly, running his thumb over the silver ring. Castiel nods once and leaves him be, finding Dean in the main room.

"Hey, Cas," Dean grins.

"I have a present for you," he says, suddenly nervous.

Dean blinks in confusion before he says, "You didn't have to."

"To make up for the phone and the amulet," Castiel replies, taking Dean's hand in pressing the necklace into his palm. "Happy Christmas, Dean."

Dean stares at it, unasked questions swimming through his soul in waves of grey and light yellow. Castiel doesn't really understand why both Sam and Dean have the same strange reaction but he clarifies once more, "It's a keyring I obtained from Charlie that I cast a protection spell over."

" _Oh_ ," Dean falters, looking the necklace over. "Oh." His finger grazes over the golden band. "Thank you, Cas."

"You're welcome, Dean," Castiel says. The deep longing red looks like sparkly raindrops — little diamonds falling on Dean's gentle greens and blues, and Castiel can't understand why Dean is quite so sad about how the ring is a ring.

**January 5, 2006**

**[January 5, 2006, 3:20 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** Hey, you know how you don’t sleep? What do you do to pass the time?  
 **Dean Winchester:** I thought you’d be like watching TV or whatever but I don’t really see you.

 **[January 5, 2006, 3:21 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** I used to explore the planet. Find other people who aren’t sleeping and talk.  
 **Castiel Novak:** But I’ve gotten into the habit of listening to music and doing crosswords. Even though you’ve done the vast majority of available ones we have.

 **[January 5, 2006, 3:23 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** Sorry about that. I can get you more if you want. They even have some online ones, I could teach you how to do those.

 **[January 5, 2006, 3:24 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** That’s unnecessary, I’m fine with redoing them. Thank you for offering.  
 **Castiel Novak:** I remember one time, I was in Italy. I met a dying woman who yelled over alcohol.

 **[January 5, 2006, 3:26 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** She wasn't yelling at you, was she?

 **[January 5, 2006, 3:26 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** No. Just about her life and how unfair it was.

 **[January 5, 2006, 3:27 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** Wish things worked out for her.

 **[January 5, 2006, 3:27 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** I'm sure she made it to Heaven.

 **[January 5, 2006, 3:28 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** Yeah.  
 **Dean Winchester:** Cas?

 **[January 5, 2006, 3:28 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** Yes?

 **[January 5, 2006, 3:28 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** Can you come dream walk again?

 **[January 5, 2006, 3:24 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** Of course, Dean. Whatever you want.

**January 11, 2006**

Dean is wearing the necklace, and has been wearing it since Castiel gave it to him. It sends a feeling crawling up his spine, fizzy and exciting, and Castiel knows that this is love. He finally knows it and he can't get enough.

Castiel finds a note on Dean's door in Sam's handwriting. On a blue sticky note, it just says: _It's Thursday :)_

He's not sure about what that means, because he didn't think there's anything particularly awe-inspiring about Thursday. Castiel would know, he was the angel of that day. It's nothing special.

Sam and Charlie insist on going out to get supplies, promising that they will be safe. Sam and Charlie each take an angel blade with them and Charlie got her ribs engraved with Enochian sigils when Sam and Dean arrived at the safe house. It means leaving Castiel and Dean alone until they return in the afternoon and Castiel can't be more nervous and excited about it. He liked when they were alone.

When Dean walks out for breakfast, hair sticking up in every direction, he gives Castiel a tired smile. Moving close to a window, steady sunlight pours through the dusty wooden blinds and washes over Dean's soul. Castiel gets a faintly familiar feeling of losing his breath at the sight. He feels like he's seen Dean like this before; sleepy, messy hair, loose smile and his soul in innocent daylight. A cheap motel room flickers through his mind and a glimpse of Dean with white linen sheets strewn over his body. He’s seen this before.

"What're you lookin' at?" Dean teases, turning around to lean against the counter, looking at Castiel with a cup of coffee in his hands. He looks beautiful and Castiel's mouth runs dry.

"Nothing," Castiel lies, looking away. "What did Sam's note mean?"

"What note?" Dean questions, walking closer to sit across from Castiel at the table.

"It's Thursday," Castiel recites. "With a smiley face."

Dean blinks absently before a lazy smile spreads across his face. He blows lightly on his coffee to cool the freshly boiled beverage down and says, "He leaves me that crap every week, I'm surprised this is the first time you're seeing it."

"Your door is typically noteless. I guess you take it down before I return every morning," Castiel shrugs. "But why does he do it?"

"Thursday's a special day," Dean says vaguely, sipping at his drink.

"Why? It's just Thursday," Castiel frowns, not following Dean.

"Cas, that's just it. It's -- you know, It's _Thursday_. And I remember Bobby told me you're the angel of Thursday, so I thought of you. And I was just thinking that Thursdays won't be so bad because it's _you_ , it's your day, and --"

Castiel's mind goes blank as he leans forward, pressing his lips to Dean's over the table and his eyes fall shut. Dean doesn't move at first, frozen by surprise, but then his mouth moves against Castiel's, slow and heavy. Dean's fingers are rough at the edges where they meet the apple of Castiel's cheeks, and his palms are warm over his jaw.

As Castiel kisses Dean, hard yet gentle, urgent yet slow, he’s forgotten about God and is lost in Dean’s mouth. Nothing else matters; not Heaven, not Good and Evil, not anything. The only things in the universe are Dean and Castiel, and it's enough.

They separate only for Dean to draw in a breath and Castiel opens his eyes to look at him. He has never looked so breathtakingly beautiful -- his typical shades are luminous as wine and cotton candy paint over his eyes and lips, and yellow spreads like watercolors and fireworks across his chest. His soul glows so brightly that it's almost like he has Grace of his own and Dean goes in for it again, tilting his head for easier access to Castiel's mouth. Castiel has never kissed anyone in his life and if he has, he doesn't recall. It doesn't change the fact that Castiel has never truly believed in Heaven until Dean's lips met his. If this is the closest to paradise Castiel will ever be allowed to taste, he will gladly take it.

After the seconds stretch into hours, Dean pulls away first, and his voice soft. "Cas."

Castiel doesn't get to say anything when Sam and Charlie suddenly burst through the door, laughing over a joke with groceries in their arms. Castiel falls back to his side of the table, standing to greet the two, and Dean's soul is sunny.

They don't talk about it. Not by choice, because they couldn't get each other alone no matter how hard they tried. But also because they were just scared of what it would mean for when their time is up and Castiel's plan fails them.

* * *

Castiel prays that night.

“Hello. Are you there, God?” Castiel asks tentatively. “It’s me, Castiel.”

No response comes his way, expectantly enough, and Castiel goes ahead, "It seems like the news has reached everyone's ears. I am unsure if it has reached yours, but I have rebelled against Heaven. But this prayer is not an apology. I don't regret that. I did what was right." He pauses before providing insight, in case God truly doesn't know, "I rebelled to ensure the safety of Sam and Dean Winchester from the other angels. Their plans for them are... destructive, and I don't wish that fate on anyone. But somewhere along the way, I have learned the humans' ways. I have learned to love, truly love, and I love Dean Winchester."  
  
Castiel glances up to the ceiling in silent beckoning towards God, saying, “I have not failed you. I do love your creations. I love them, Father, I love him.” He pauses, closing his eyes. “I love him. I love him and I can’t stop. I know that I have fallen in my tasks, and I have fallen often. And you should know that I will learn to love humans, and I will love them often. I love Dean, and I do not expect you to like it, but I am asking that you accept this and make your peace with it because I am not asking for your forgiveness. You can feel however you want about it but I... I did not fail you.”

Castiel stops his prayer. He never wants to pray again.


	21. Carpe Diem

_Holy verses in his kiss,_   
_he was your bible._   
**Jon Bellion**

**January 14, 2006**

[Found by Charlie under John's journal, on scrap paper]

_I don't know where that kiss came from or what that means for us. I don't know if you've kissed anyone before so I know even less what you did it for. I just know that I can't stop thinking about it and about you._

**January 20, 2006**

Charlie insists on the boys leaving her alone for the afternoon and Inias has no updates for them, which is how they end up in a pool bar, by Dean's request. Dean clears round after round, racking up money from players he beats as Sam and Castiel stand at the side.

"I'll play you," a woman says, walking up to Dean. Castiel is facing away from the pool tables and doesn't look, talking to Sam instead.

"Have you ever played pool?" Sam asks.

"I never had occasion," Castiel replies, lacing his hands together. "I have watched people play, but I never learned how."

Sam lifts one shoulder in a half shrug, suggesting, "Hey, after this Heaven business is resolved, Dean could teach you. He's really good, been playing and winning since he was a kid."

"I will ask him," Castiel says but it's clear that he's not completely in the conversation.

Sam catches on and says, "You know, if you don't want to be the vessel, we'll do it. I don't want you to die and I know it's the very last thing Dean wants."

"Yes, but either of you dying is the last thing I want as well. The loss of me isn't as great as the loss of both of you. It'll be fine," Castiel says. "Besides, I have a chance of surviving. You don't."

"That's true," Sam mutters, chewing his lower lip in thought. "So any moment could be our last moments together, huh?"

"Maybe," Castiel says.

"Then why not just... tell Dean you love him?" Sam frowns, leaning across the tall table to look at Castiel. "If you die, if one of us dies, won't you regret it if he never knew?"

"I don't..."

"I'm not blind, Cas. I know how you and Dean become lovesick fools around each other," Sam scoffs. "Listen, don't wait until it's too late, okay? I thought I was gonna have all the time in the world with Jess and look where that got both of us. Don't repeat my mistake. You have a chance here."

Before Castiel can reply, there's a loud crack and the woman slams Dean onto the pool table. The balls roll across the wooden floor. Sam grabs his angel blade from his jacket and Castiel's own one slips into his hand. The woman is a reaper and Castiel curses inwardly that he didn't think to check before. Castiel nods towards Dean, and Sam takes the hint, running over to help him up.

"Castiel," she says dangerously. Castiel doesn't know the reaper, but he sees a metallic keychain hanging out of her pocket that reads 'APRIL'. "Give up the humans."

"Why the hell didn't Inias give us a heads up?" Dean mutters, rubbing his arm where it had hit the table wrong.

Sam looks him over to check for severe injuries, replying, "Maybe this was unplanned. But I don't think she's an angel."

"I didn't hear any order given out to come and get them," Castiel says, cocking his head in question.

"Because there wasn't any," she says, straightening up with a sickening smile. "They took the initiative. I'm just here to reap."

" _They_?" Dean repeats and five angels appear and they don't even come from Castiel's garrison; Mirabel, Nithael, Hael, Sariel, and Duma. “Oh, fuck.”

Castiel dodges as Sariel lashes out at him, swinging his angel blade. Mirabel and Duma join Sariel in attacking Castiel, keeping him occupied while Nithael and Hael make a move for Sam and Dean. They're working on their own, outside of Heaven's authority.

"What are you even hoping for?" Castiel asks, wincing as Duma's blade nicks his arm. "Do you think they'll be proud of you if you bring them back?"

"They'll be more than proud," Mirabel bites out, grabbing Castiel. He looks over and sees Sam and Dean teaming up to hold their own against Hael and Nithael and his arm shoots out, throwing the two angels against the wall telekinetically. Distracted by Castiel's deterrence, Dean stabs Nithael and he's blasted from the inside out, his vessel crumbling uselessly to the floor.

Castiel leans away as much as he can when Sariel comes close with his blade and he kicks out at his knees. Sariel stumbles back and Castiel takes the chance to move backward, ramming Mirabel into the wall. He spins the blade in his hand and stabs her without turning. He sees in his periphery, Mirabel falling as the glaring fades from her eyes and before he can even process Dean shouting his name in warning, he feels a sharp pain in his side and his vision is blinded with light.

The next thing Castiel knows, he is standing in a void and it is so quiet that it's deafening.

"Where am I?" Castiel mutters, blinking hard to get his eyes adjusted. It's completely dark, and he can barely see.

"You're in the Empty. All angels and demons come here when they die," someone says from behind him. He turns and sees an old man, neat black hair and wrinkled skin, a long cane in one hand. "Hello, Castiel. Don't worry about April. She won't be a problem anymore."

"You're Death," Castiel realizes.

Death nods once, stepping forward, "I am."

The Empty seems like everything Castiel expected it to be and not at all either. It's a literal _empty_ , a limitless obsidian void. The only things Castiel can see for miles is himself and Death just a few feet away. Or maybe he's much closer than Castiel thinks he is, there's no estimate of space in a vacuum. Castiel asks, "Are you reaping me?"

"I have reapers to do that. On the contrary, I've come to raise a proposition," Death says, surprising Castiel.

"Why?"

"Because frankly, the angels are getting on my nerves. Do you know how many vessels they have burned through the past few months just to locate you and your two humans?" Death says, his voice steady and chilling. "And I know they're doing whatever they're doing in the name of God... Just because God made you doesn't mean you speak for him. The angels need to be put in their place."

Castiel stares at him, unable to go off soul colours to identify his mood or read his body language enough to be of use. He asks, "What do you want them to do?"

"I want them to stop this wild goose chase for the two humans. It's pointless and a complete waste of vessels and time. They have more important things to do," Death says, rolling his eyes. "I am old, Castiel. Very old. I invite you to contemplate how tired I am of their holier-than-thou attitude and how insignificant I find every one of you angels. If I had it my way, I'd reap you all."

A chill creeps up Castiel's spine at that; Death himself telling you he'd love to be the one to send you to the afterlife is terrifying. He asks quietly, "Then why am I awake? Why not let me die?"

"Because I need you to end this with me," Death answers. "Do as I say, I'll pull a few strings, send you right back into your human's arms. I don't ask for much. Will you do it?"

* * *

"He's not dead."

"Dean..." Sam says. "Come on."

"No, I'm not being fucking delusional. He's not dead," Dean says seriously and when Sam is about to say something, he realizes that Dean is right. 

Castiel's eyes snap open and he gasps, shooting up into a sitting position. Dean and Sam jolt in shock, staring wide-eyed as Castiel catches his breath, clutching at his chest.

"Cas," Dean gapes. "You're alive."

"I am..." Castiel trails off, still confused, “Death freed me from the Empty, he’s keeping me alive."

Dean frowns, "Death? As in Four Horsemen, apocalyptic crap?"

Castiel shakes his head absently, "This has nothing to do with your 'apocalyptic crap', he came to me with a plan. He wants to stop the angels too." 

“Well, thank God,” Sam exhales in relief, dropping his angel blade as he sits down.

“I don’t think God has anything to do with this,” Castiel replies with an injured look.

"Whatever. God or no God, you're back," Dean says, leaning forward to pull Castiel into a hug that the angel never wanted to leave. "Don't do that to me again."

"Never, Dean," Castiel promises, hand rising to rest on Dean's back. "I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye."

**January 28, 2006**

Dean is a little more subdued on the days following Castiel's encounter with Death.

Castiel can understand how it may have brought down morale, especially since the angels will (actually) come any time now. But Dean always looks at him with dark red yearning in his hands like he has something to say even though he never goes through with it, shaking his head before he says something else or leaves the room.

Eventually, concern wins over giving him space and Castiel stops Dean before he can leave again and asks, "Dean, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm good," Dean lies in deep orange.

"No, you're not," Castiel says, letting his hand drop off Dean's arm. "What's wrong?"

Dean looks like he's thinking about if he should lie again or just tell Castiel and he finally admits, “You almost died."

“Well, I didn’t,” Castiel replies. "You may rest easy."

“No, Cas. I mean you almost _died_. I don’t... I don’t know what I’m gonna do if you died, I can’t imagine --“ Dean cuts himself off, trying to recollect himself. Castiel stares at him, unknowing how to respond, and Dean goes on, “You’re so important to me and I can’t lose you.”

“Dean --“

“ _I love you_ , Castiel. I’m in love with you, and I’m sorry I had to watch you die to tell you,” Dean blurts out. He takes a deep breath and says a little quieter, “I’m sorry. I love you."

Castiel's lungs breathe fire, and if he were human, it'd be classified as _finally_.

Castiel kisses Dean, fleeting and innocent, and then Dean's hands pull him back in. He smells a fading hint of this morning's coffee lost in Dean's mouth as they kiss, and now Castiel knows what love feels like. They kiss until they laugh, cheeks rosy and warm, and they kiss some more until they come up for air.

**February 4, 2006**

**[February 4, 2006, 2:12 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** Cas.  
 **Dean Winchester:** Cassie.  
 **Dean Winchester:** Castiel.  
 **Dean Winchester:** Sweetheart.

 **[February 4, 2006, 2:13 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** That’s a new one.

 **[February 4, 2006, 2:13 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** Well, you are oh so sweet on me.  
 **Dean Winchester:** I can’t sleep.  
 **Dean Winchester:** Too excited about us.

 **[February 4, 2006, 2:14 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** “Us” happened a week ago.  
 **Castiel Novak:** But I feel the same.

 **[February 4, 2006, 2:15 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** Let's go for a drive. Just you and me.  
 **Dean Winchester:** Okay, wait. Last time we left the bunker for no reason, you got killed for like ten minutes. Hell no. Not risking that again.  
 **Dean Winchester:** Let's go do some crosswords or something. Charlie got yesterday's paper.  
 **Dean Winchester:** And then maybe you could dream walk again?

 **[February 4, 2006, 2:17 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** Of course, Dean.

 **[February 4, 2006, 2:17 AM]**  
 **Dean Winchester:** I love you.

 **[February 4, 2006, 2:17 AM]**  
 **Castiel Novak:** I love you too.


	22. Blackbird

_In the flush of love’s light, we dare be brave, and suddenly we see that love costs all we are and will ever be. Yet it is only love which sets us free._  
**Maya Angelou**

**February 17, 2006**

[Found by Castiel on Dean’s door, on Wonder Woman notebook paper]

_C:_

_Sam and I went out to see Bobby for a case. We'll be back by the latest, the 19th. Till then, I'm gonna miss you._

_I'll see you when I do, sweetheart._

_D.W._

**February 23, 2006**

Sam lowers the corner of his newspaper and grins at him, "Morning, Cas."

Dean kisses Castiel's cheek as he walks past him into the room, beaming, "Morning, sunshine."

That's as much time as they get to themselves before Inias appears to them with no prior warning, telling them that Heaven is now all out in locating them and now is their only window to move. Charlie wishes them good luck, kissing Dean and Sam on the cheek and giving Castiel a hug in case it’s the last time she’ll ever get the chance to.

"You'd think I'd get to have breakfast first," Dean grumbles, though he puts an arm around Castiel's waist, ready to leave. Sam goes with Inias, putting a hand on his shoulder, and Inias follows Castiel as they fly up like rockets, past any angel before they can get a second look at them.

“This is my Heaven,” Castiel announces as all four of them land on the soft grass. Sam and Dean barely get a chance to take it in when Castiel looks over at Inias and continues talking. “I need to go now, Inias will protect you here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” As he turns away to leave, Dean pulls him back.

“Come back to me,” Dean says.

“Okay.”

Dean’s hands find their way into Castiel’s, and then up his arms to his cheeks. Castiel can only look at Dean. “You do whatever you need to, you come back to me. Okay?”

Castiel nods. “Okay, Dean.”

Castiel disappears with the sound of wings flapping and Inias says, “Well, get comfortable. Castiel might be a while.”

“How long do you think it’ll be?” Sam asks, pushing his hands into his pockets.

Inias fixes him with a hard stare, “It could be a while, or it could be _a while_. Just sit. It’s bad enough on the benches.”

“You’re telling me,” Dean says quietly, looking around. Castiel’s heaven looks better than his imagination could ever supply. In fact, Dean thinks Castiel’s description doesn’t do the real thing justice. It’s _beautiful_. Dean has never seen a sky so blue and grass so green. The trees stand tall and cast dark shadows where the sunlight’s yellow light like butter doesn’t reach the grass. The breeze is gentle, kissing his skin, and the air is so clean.

The man Castiel mentioned that’s in his heaven is there, sitting by the lake. Sam frowns, tilting his head, “Who’s that?”

“Cas’s heaven is this dude’s memory. Tuesday in 1953 or something,” Dean answers, walking over. The lake is gorgeous up close, light dancing on the ripples like crystals. There’s a fish swimming near the surface. 

“Pretty. So pretty,” the man murmurs, a smile on his face.

“Yeah, man,” Dean agrees. The sun is warm on his face. “It is.”

“It’s Tuesday,” the man continues, and it doesn’t take Dean long to realize that the man probably won’t respond if he says anything. He sits down next to the man, feeling the grass tickle his palms and takes another look around; a dock materializes with a fishing rod at the edge of the lake, and he finally sees the Impala, missed due to it being under the shade of trees. And he sees the note in the man’s hand: “ _Dear Cas,_ ”

Sam walks over, saying, “Dude, you’re all over this place.”

“Yeah,” Dean says in awe. Led Zeppelin songs play tinnily from the Impala’s aged radio softly in the background and a blue and green fish swims to the surface. Dean realizes the fish looks like what Cas described his soul to look like and his heart bursts with affection.

“Don’t step on that fish,” the man says. “Big plans for that fish.” Sam blinks in surprise and Dean shakes his head to let him know that the man isn’t real. The man adds, “It’s a beautiful fish.”

Inias appears by their side suddenly, declaring, “Heaven is in chaos right now as Castiel does what he is. If you want to get to Naomi, this is your chance. I will only take one of you to lower risks of getting caught and Anael has offered to stay temporarily to keep watch. Which of you will go and which will --“

“I’ll go,” Dean instantly volunteers.

“Of course. Why did I even ask?” Inias says flatly. A redhead female angel rests a hand on Sam’s shoulder and he jerks, caught off guard, and she smiles amiably.

“I am Anael, Castiel’s friend,” she introduces. “Good luck, Dean.”

Inias touches Dean’s shoulder and then they’re abruptly transported to an immaculate ivory hallway, a single door at the end. Inias says, "That's Naomi's office."

Dean propels his legs forward until he reaches her door and he twists the knob, walking in. She looks up from her desk to see him and a professional smile spreads across her face. "Dean Winchester, it's an honor to --"

"Cut the crap. I know what you did to Cas," Dean says coldly, slamming his hands down on her table and staring right into her eyes. They're blue, but not like Cas's. Cas's are like diamonds in the ocean. Naomi's are like cobalt stones.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she says, feigning ignorance. "Inias, you know Heaven is looking all over for him."

Inias says quietly, avoiding eye contact with her, "You've erased Castiel's memory many times. You owe him his history."

"I owe him nothing. I did him a service. I fixed him," Naomi says, still maintaining her plastic smile.

Dean says, pointing an accusatory finger at her, "He doesn't need fixing. He's great the way he is before _you_ tried to ruin him by doing your brainwashing on him."

Naomi stands, finally dropping the kind façade as her face is inches away from Dean's, staring back just as icily. " _I_ ruined him? What about _you_ , the human who made an angel fall! You've ruined him three times now and I could never reverse the impressions you leave on him! Ever since Castiel laid a hand on you, he was lost! I brought him home every time but he always went back to you!"

Dean pulls out his angel blade and swings it at her but she dodges in time, teleporting behind Dean to slam him down onto the desk. Inias jumps into action, dragging her off of him and throwing her across the room. He stands protectively in front of Dean as Naomi gets up, looking murderous. 

"You're making a mistake," Naomi says severely. She shows off her own blade and tries to get Inias out of the way. He is pushed aside by her but he comes right back, punching her before holding her in a tight chokehold. Dean gives her a sarcastic smile, raising the blade.

"This is for Cas," he says, plunging the blade deep into her abdomen. Naomi flashes white light and Dean shuts his eyes, turning away. Inias looks on, unblinking, watching her die in front of him. As her body falls to the linoleum floor, Inias smiles for the first time in front of Dean.

"It's over," Inias exhales. "She will never touch Castiel again."

"Yeah, it's over," Dean says quietly, feeling a smile of his own touch his lips. "It's done."

* * *

Inias brings Dean back to Cas's heaven where Sam and Anael were talking about something together. They look up when they appear and Sam stands, asking, "How did it go?"

"Naomi's dead," Dean answers. "Refused to return his memories. We'll find another way, it's fine. What matters is she won't get him ever again."

Sam grins, nodding once, "Good. That's good."

Anael smiles politely, standing, "Thank you for helping my friend. I'll take my leave. I hope Castiel comes back."

"You and me both," Dean agrees. "Thanks for watching Sammy."

"I don't need a babysitter," Sam frowns.

"That's not what Inias thought," Dean teases and Anael laughs, shaking her head before she disappears into thin air. Once she's gone, Dean looks around and says, "Cas needs to get a clock up in here."

Suddenly, Cas shoots right into his heaven, hurtling through so quickly as he grabs onto Dean. He barely has time to process that Inias has taken hold of Sam before he feels air whipping past his body as he feels them going down, approaching the ground.

"Shit!" Dean shouts and he can barely hear it with all the wind in his ears. His hands scrabble blindly at Cas, grabbing onto his coat and he feels feathers between his fingers. He forces his eyes open against the pressure and his mouth falls open when he takes in Cas.

There's a bright blue glow that casts over Cas's body and it reverberates where his hands meet Dean's skin. His eyes are bursting with Grace, electric blue and energetic. And his wings; pristine ivory feathers spread from Cas's back and it's almost like looking at nacre. Though white, Dean can see the way it shimmers pink, blue and green as the sunlight falls and kisses his wings. Dean doesn't even realize he's crying until he sees his teardrops rising off his face as the wind takes them away. One lands on Cas's face, running up his cheek. He knew Cas's wings were beautiful, he just didn't know how much.

Fire catches onto the tips of his wings and it begins to scorch up the closer they get to the ground and Dean watches, unable to look away, as the halo at the back of Cas's head starts to fade. Grace spills out of him and burns up into nothing, trailing behind like weak sparks of light as they pick up the pace. Dean feels Castiel's grip on him tighten, pulling him closer to his chest in protection. With his head to Cas's body, he can feel the vague outline of his amulet pressing through the shirt into his cheek, and he can feel the ring against his own chest.

He can hear Cas's heart beating, the only sound he can pick out among the pressure.

They hurtle down to the ground, faster and faster as Cas's wings disintegrate and they finally meet the ground, touching down on what Dean thinks is grass. Cas tumbles over him and stops a few feet away, breathing heavily as the last of his feathers burn and break off. Dean gains his bearings and turns to check on Cas. His Grace no longer looks like pure light, instead resembling a melted down glow stick as it gets lost in the grass. They stopped in an empty field.

Inias and Sam arrive in a matter of seconds, landing much smoother since Inias's wings weren't falling off his back. Inias lets Sam go and he runs over to Dean, helping him up, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Dean nods, giving Sam a once-over to ensure he was uninjured. When he's satisfied, he looks back at Cas and walks over, falling to his knees as he rocks Cas gently. "Cas, hey. Can you open your eyes for me?"

He blinks hard to bring Dean’s face into focus, ground himself. Cas feels oddly emptied out but it feels good. There’s a weight in his shoulders that’s no longer there and there is no familiar buzzing in his veins from his powerful Grace. Dean touches the side of Cas’s face and smiles, joking, "We've gotta stop meeting like this."

Cas realizes belatedly that Dean's hand is not glowing, and it is not azure and aquamarine, and his eyes are not reminiscent of wine and pink cotton candy. No, Dean has green eyes with specks of gold in his irises. They seem to glow with the sun and his eyelashes cast a shadow under them. There's a delightful spray of freckles across his nose and under his eyes, and his cheekbones are sharp until they meet his jaw. His eyes are affectionate and his lips are intoxicating. His smile sends sunshine shooting through Cas's veins in an exhilarating bout of ecstasy. Happiness flares up like fireworks in his heart when Dean smiles and Cas knows now, that a heart is a heavy burden, and it is one that he has always been willing to carry.

"Cas, you're crying," Dean says, worried. "Are you okay? In pain? Sam --"

"Dean," Cas chokes out, resting his hand over Dean's on his cheek. "You're so beautiful."

Death appears behind Dean, invisible to all but Cas, and says, "I always keep my word. Happy trails, Castiel." He moves forward and lays a hand on his head, returning all that he has forgotten.

Fourth of July in 2002, Jessica Moore, visiting Akobel, meeting John Winchester, Dean laughing with a bartender, "I'm sorry", John Bonham, ceiling sprinklers and a hand on his wrist. The first time he ever smiled. _March of 1298_ ; Cas had watched Johannis Olivi, a South France theologist, die professing his faith to the Roman Catholic Church, watched the life drain out of him with an ache in his chest. _June of 1587_ ; Cas sat with William Shakespeare for one dinner and though he didn't eat, he let the writer recite his work to him. Specifically, an early draft of Henry VI, Part I. _January of 1962_ ; Cas attended a Beatles concert in Liverpool's Casbah Coffee Club and listened as they performed _From Me To You_. _November of 1983_ ; Cas had saved a young boy from dying with his house as his mother burned on the ceiling.

“Dean,” Cas gasps. “I remember everything. You...”

“What about me?” Dean asks, hands coming up to his face to help him focus. “Cas?”

“I knew you,” Cas says quietly, eyes wide. “I knew you from before.”

Dean stares, not following. “From before when?”

“You -- You almost burned in the house,” Cas whispers. “You were at the bottom of the stairs. The roof was crumbling around you.”

“Dad got Sammy out in the last minute but the shelf fell between us,” Dean says, throat dry, eyes not leaving Cas’s.

“You were stuck,” Cas continues shakily, nodding as he feels pricking behind his eyes. “Your father couldn’t get to you through the fire.”

Dean says, slow with realization, “And someone got me out.”

“That was me,” Cas says, a smile growing on his face. “I got you out, Dean.”

Dean stares, silently blinking as his mouth falls open before the brightest grin Cas has ever seen spreads across his face. " _I love you._ " Dean cracks, breaking into excited laughter as he pulls Castiel into a kiss, holding them together so tightly that Cas feels warm all over, his heart beating breathlessly against his ribcage. "God, Cas. I love you."

"I love you too," Cas smiles, wider than he ever has and as he sits there holding Dean, Cas finally understands what it means to be human.

**March 1, 2007**

[Found by Dean on the Impala's dashboard, on green notebook paper]

_Dear Dean,_

_I don’t know where to begin. I have never really written a letter before. I think I’ll start with the deal. Death promised my memories if I took Good and Evil in. No human soul can possess one or the other, and no angel can possess both. He contained them with my Grace and let me become human. In a way, they killed the angel part of me, and they left the part that could be human in their wake._ _I think becoming human had started long before that, though._ _I know when it truly did. July 4, 2002. I didn’t think watching fireworks with one human could change so much but here I am. Dean, the things we have shared, I will always treasure all the_

_I don’t know what to say. The words are sounding all wrong. Let me try again._

_Hello, Dean. I love you._

_You were just a soul who wandered my way and you have changed my life. You showed me how human you were and made me feel something, feel more than I ever thought I could and I stood no chance. It's like light through stained glass. It takes a little while before the colors hit your consciousness and then you're in the rainbow. By the time you realize where you're standing, you've already grown comfortable._

_I like where I'm standing._

_It's absurd, thinking about how I might not be here if I didn't make the snap decisions to listen to your prayer at Stanford and to offer you a lighter and a matchbox in Illinois. If I'd obeyed orders to keep my distance instead of just doing what came to me at the moment._

_Carpet Damn, or something like that. You know how it goes._

_It's such a human thing, right? To not know how something will turn out but taking that crazy and running with it. I like it. I have loved every moment of running with you._

_Today is Thursday and it's going to be a good day. We have all the time in the world._

_For now, I will remember the fireworks._

_Love,_  
_Cas_


End file.
